Knights Out
by TempleMistress
Summary: Party time! After a fight, Anakin and Obi-Wan unknowingly attend the same bash, trying to forget each other. Little do they know what the other has been up to. AU. Slash. Adult situations. Obi-Wan&Anakin, other pairings.
1. Chapter 1: Get This Party Started

I hope you'll forgive me, but I needed a break from the angst! Special thanks goes out to my supa-fine Jedi Sis Alchemy Dream for literally giving me what has become the soundtrack for this fic as I write it, and giving me the idea that it might be time to try a bit of humour again. And as always, thank you Xtine for being a patient and easily amused beta.

Come on, you know you all want to party with the Jedi! Warning: Rampant HJL ahead, but not with the pairing you might be expecting (at this point). Just a friendly notice! Enjoy! --TM

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Knights Out**

** Part 1: _Get This Party Started_**

_"__I'm comin' up so you better get this party started…"_

_Damn straight_, Anakin thought as he nodded his head in agreement. From the top of the stairs, the Jedi Padawan surveyed what could only be described as the biggest rave scene he had ever dreamed of. Wild coloured lights strobed around the room, casting huge distorted shadows on the walls, alternately spotlighting and hiding the writhing throng of partygoers on the dance floor. Anakin's deep blue eyes scanned the crowd as he felt his body unconsciously begin to move to the grinding beat. He licked his lips and grinned hugely; oh yes, it was _definitely_ going to be a good party this year.

Force knew, he needed the distraction.

It was Knights Out, the hallowed— if somewhat underground— annual bash for all the Padawans who had ascended to Knighthood in the past year. Although certainly not openly endorsed by the Council or any self-respecting and _proper_ Jedi Knight, it wasn't uncommon to find Council Members and other revered Masters dancing on tables, participating in and _winning_ drinking contests, or snogging someone off in a corner at Knights Out. Organized by a semi-secret host each year, no one was actually ever invited to the party, but somehow word of the actual date and time seemed to fall on just the right ears.

Rumour had it that Master Vos was responsible for the festivities this year. Anakin knew that if Quinlan Vos was involved, it would _definitely_ be a night to remember. After all, Master Vos had a reputation as a _rogue_ Jedi with an irreverent attitude towards all things pertaining to propriety and the Jedi Code. He was also a good friend of Obi-Wan's; they had been friends since they were Padawans, though Anakin could hardly see how. Master Vos' more wild and reckless tendencies, it seemed, had never rubbed off on Anakin's always well-behaved Master. _Too bad; I'm sure he could show my Master how to relax and have a good time, _Anakin thought with frustration.

Looking around, Anakin saw no sign of Master Vos, but party was already in full swing. Padawans, the new class of Knights, and Masters all mixed together under the swirling lights and pounding music, undulating en masse in time to the heavy bass.

As one of the most senior Padawans, Anakin had no problem finding out the information. After all, he'd attended Knights Out since he was 17, totally without his Master's permission or knowledge. Anakin had to chuckle…as if straight-laced Obi-Wan Kenobi had ever even _thought_ about attending Knights Out!

He could just imagine Obi-Wan reaction to such a party. He'd stand as tall as he could, (which really wasn't that much anymore, now that Anakin stood a good couple of inches over him), his arms folded into the sleeves of his robe, attempting to look commanding and authoritative. With a scowl and then a tug on his beard in a vain attempt to look severe and _Masterly_, he'd use that snotty "I'm-the-best-Jedi-in-the-galaxy-and-I-know-it" voice, telling Anakin that Knights Out was a _'contemptible waste of time that could be better spent meditating or reading, rather than gyrating lewdly to an utterly dreadful cacophony of noise that unfortunately passes for modern music.'_ Anakin thought that if Obi-Wan could ever relax enough he might just have a good time, but that would require him to actually attend a social function that didn't involve datapads or protocol droids.

On the other hand, if his Master ever found out about all the things that went on at Knights Out, not to mention all of Anakin's adventures over the years, he'd never allow Anakin out of the Temple. In addition to hours of meditating on the virtues of a sexless and completely _boring_ life, he'd force Anakin into a service detail that would undoubtedly involve filing Master Yoda's claws, shining Master Windu's head, and a week of laundry duty for the crechelings.

Anakin shuddered at the thought. _Please, not Windu's head. Anything but that._

How Anakin had kept his attendance at Knights Out a secret all these years he couldn't figure, all things considered. Anakin's first year at Knights Out found him spending a good hour throwing up in the 'fresher after one-too-many Corellian Crushers— but honestly, how was he to know? Barriss had just kept filling his cup with the fruity, potent concoction, telling him to "drink up!" It had tasted so good and went down so smoothly that Anakin had thought it was just juice. How he had got home, into bed, and managed to attend Master Windu's 0800 class was still a mystery.

Then there was the year that he and Tru Veld had gotten into a fist-fight on the dance floor over…what was it? Oh, yeah, something incredibly _important_— who did a better "Running Man". He'd had to come up with a pretty elaborate cover story for the black eye— luckily Barriss had snuck into Master Unduli's Healer bag and had been able to apply some bacta to the cut on his cheek to avoid stitches. Obi-Wan had thankfully assumed it was Anakin's teenage clumsiness, thoughtfully taking the time to lecture him on the merits of Jedi grace.

And then there was _last_ year. Anakin's cheeks flushed with that particular memory… what there was of it, anyways. After consuming several Furry Wookiees and a double shot of what Barriss called Gungan Gut-Rot, he spent most of his time in the 'fresher again. The logistics were still in question, as were some of the particular details, but he definitely wasn't _sick_ this time. What he did remember was that when he wasn't busy groping Aayla and watching her do un-fucking-believable things to him with her lekku, he was on his knees in another stall with Ferus Olin— _Ferus!— _slurping and sucking the life out of his rival. It was surprising as all hell to Anakin that he was _turned on_ by the way Ferus kept moaning _'fuck!'_ over and over while tugging on Anakin's braid to pull him closer.

And as if _that_ wasn't enough (and it damn well should have been— hello? _Ferus?_ What the fuck had he been thinking?), there was a strange snippet of memory involving Masters Tachi and Unduli. He somehow found himself waking up to giggles— female giggles— in the back of some speeder parked in what appeared to be a dark corner of the Temple's hanger. Anakin couldn't be sure, but he was fairly certain he remembered lips pressing against his, a hand cupping his cheek, then another slowly sliding down his chest and resting on his groin. Then more giggles, and a familiar voice saying _'Sith, woman, he's but a babe still, Obi-Wan would kill you…'_. He could swear that when he forced his eyes open he saw what appeared to be Master Siri Tachi, half-naked, smiling at him, then turning away to start kissing someone with wild abandon…was that _Master Luminara_?

No, he _had_ to have been dreaming. That _couldn't_ have happened, could it? Well, real or not, it had been fun to imagine over the last year; he could hardly look either Master in the eye after that.

Anakin had no doubt that this year would be no less entertaining. Force, it had better be. With any luck, it would be his last Knights Out as a Padawan, the last time he would have to sneak off under elaborate pretenses. For as much fun as he had each year, he still hated lying to Obi-Wan. Even when his Master was being the most irritatingly unreasonable prick in the universe.

Like earlier tonight.

After yet _another_ fight with Obi-Wan, this time something about how carelessly he had flown his new Delta-Six before landing— and how could he _not_? With his modifications, the Six had just _begged_ him to roll her on approach— Anakin just couldn't take another evening of brooding silences, awkward pauses, and a tension that never used to exist between them. He had even gone to his Master's room to try to apologize, but accidentally overheard Obi-Wan on the comm, saying something like _'I can't take much more of this!_'

Anakin's temper had flared at being talked about behind his back, Obi-Wan had chastised him for eavesdropping, and after a totally juvenile stare-down, Anakin had stormed out saying he was going to a holo with Padme, knowing that would make his Master even angrier. He never understood why Padme bothered Obi-Wan so much, but it was _always_ a touchy subject.

Which was _exactly_ why he had said it.

Of course, his Master was unaware Padme was not only off-planet, but there was also absolutely _nothing_ going on between her and Anakin. How could there be? Padme was fooling around with some Senator's Junior Lackey of Something, and Anakin? Well, he had unfortunately, and foolishly, fallen in love with the very man whose face he was going to try to erase from his thoughts for at least one night.

Fucking Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He wasn't sure how it happened, or when it started exactly, but Anakin had tried just about everything he could to _not _feel the rush of emotions that flared to life whenever he and Obi-Wan were together. Obi-Wan would be completely horrified if he knew how he starred in all of Anakin's fantasies as a _very_ skilled, _very_ aggressive, and _very naked_ lover, how Anakin couldn't even take a proper shower anymore without ending it with a moaned _"Master…", _or how Anakin got hard even when they argued these days, seeing Obi-Wan's face flushed indignant, hair ruffled, chest heaving as his blue-green eyes sparked with intensity.

_Force, I need a drink_, he thought, spying a spot at the bar. With the bass pounding in his chest, he strode over to the bar with a definite swagger to his leather-clad hips. Dressed in his signature black leather pants and black boots, he had selected a form-fitting dark blue shirt that clung to every muscle and accentuated his eyes. He could feel the pairs of hungry eyes that followed his every move, and while it provided a certain thrill, it simultaneously didn't matter because he really only wanted one person to look at him that way, and he knew it would never, ever happen.

Taking a sip from the cool bottle of ale, Anakin leaned against the bar, looking out on the party. He shook his head, trying to rid it of his lurid thoughts. Fuck Obi-Wan Kenobi. Tonight was about making sure _Anakin Skywalker_ had fun. He would forget about his unreasonable crush on his completely unobtainable uptight Master, and with any luck, find himself back in a 'fresher stall, and not alone, either…

---

"Come _on_ Quin, will you just fucking _do it_, already?" Obi-Wan begged, his face red and flushed as he looked back over his shoulder.

Quinlan growled and pushed Obi-Wan up against the cool window, putting one hand on the smaller Jedi's hip and the other on his shoulder. "Patience," he panted, "is the way of the Jedi," he grunted, thrusting hard into Obi-Wan.

"_Force_, Quin, you are such an ass," Obi-Wan gasped, his eyes closing briefly from the deep and satisfying pleasure that was beginning to build within him. _Sith hell, I should not need this so much_. But he did, and looking down at his impressively stiff erection, that was especially true tonight. Frustrated and needing release, Obi-Wan reached down to grasp his achingly swollen cock, only to have his hand batted away and replaced by a larger, stronger hand. Obi-Wan bit his lip and groaned appreciatively under Quinlan's expert touch.

"Un-uh. That's my job," the Kiffar Jedi murmured, his breath hot on Obi-Wan's neck. "You're the one who called me, remember? What happened? Have another fight with that cock-teasing apprentice of yours?" He gave Obi-Wan's length a couple of firm tugs, followed by long strokes that lingered at the tip, eliciting a sharp moan from the other Jedi.

Obi-Wan shook his head in denial, his sweat-drenched hair falling into his eyes, sticking to his forehead. He didn't want to think about Anakin…not now…

Picking up on Obi-Wan's thoughts, Quinlan couldn't help himself. "Yes you do, Kenobi. You want to pretend he's the one fucking you right now, his long fingers wrapped around your cock, pulling and teasing you." Quinlan leaned in closer, his teeth grazing Obi-Wan's ear. "Biting your ear, whispering 'Come, Master, come for me'…"

_Anakin…Anakin's hands roaming his body, Anakin's full lips pressing into his shoulder, his warm tongue wet as it traced a line from Obi-Wan's shoulder up to his ear…_

"_Ana…Quiiiin…"_ he moaned as he came forcefully into Quinlan's skilled hand. Seconds later he felt Quinlan tense up as Obi-Wan's mind was invaded with images of Quinlan and his former apprentice Aayla Secura _in flagrante delicto. _The other Jedi shuddered in climax, holding Obi-Wan against him for a moment until his body stilled, then quickly separated, as though it was the natural course of business.

Which it was, of course. Obi-Wan and Quin had been fuck-buddies for several years now, since one wild Knights Out that found them both drunk, lonely, and unreasonably horny for the one thing they couldn't have—their Padawans. Anakin had been only 16 then, and Aayla, well, she had been young enough that even _Quin_ thought of her as off-limits jail-bait. It had been a beneficial arrangement for both men, a way to satisfy their lust, even if Quinlan _was_ lewd, forceful, and definitely _not_ a cuddler.

Having calmed his breathing, Obi-Wan spied his leggings lying in a crumpled heap next to the couch and began to get dressed. Pulling on his tunics, he glared over at Quinlan, who still lay splayed naked on the couch. "Do you mind, Quin? I'd rather not have to get the cushions cleaned again because you are too lazy to cover your ass."

Not moving a muscle, the dark-haired Jedi smiled lazily, the fog of lust just beginning to clear from his intense eyes. "Fucking relax, would you?" he drawled, obviously sated from their encounter. "Obi-Wan, how can you possibly still be so uptight after _that_? I mean, that was the whole point, wasn't it?"

Obi-Wan threw Quin's trousers at him, hitting him in the head. "I am _not _uptight," he said defensively. "And by the way, _thanks_ for projecting again—like I need to see your soddy fantasies about Aayla and her lekku," he grimaced, trying desperately to forget. "By the stars," he muttered, holding his hand over his eyes.

Quin threw back his head, laughing. "_My_ fantasies? Give me a break. I think the whole damn Temple pretty much heard _your_ fantasy just now. Who just came with his Padawan's name screaming from his lips? '_Anakin!'_" Quinlan mocked with a wanton moan. "It sure as hell wasn't me… not this time, anyway," he added.

Obi-Wan shot him a look of death, which only made Quin laugh harder. "You are _such_ a fucking bastard, Quinlan Vos. Why I put up with this—"

"Arrangement? Because I'm a good fuck, Kenobi, and you know it. You might say, and I emphasize _you_ here, that it's my speci-al-i-ty," Quin said, imitating his friend's clipped aristocratic accent. "Face it, you need me. How else would you have made it through the last couple of years with that sweet young ass wagging in your face day in and day out? You have it so bad for your Padawan you even get turned on arguing with him now. Now _that's_ a problem. What was it this time again? Something about his _flying_?"

Obi-Wan sighed and rolled his eyes as he wandered into the kitchen area. "_Yes_. He has that damn Delta-Six now and he thinks he's just bloody hot shit. I'm telling you, Quin, he's going to be the death of me."

"Yeah, when you finally let him fuck you to death!"

He shot another lethal glare at Quinlan. "I _merely_ commented that he might not need to fly so fast, _upside down_, through the upper levels of Coruscant's atmosphere, nor do barrel rolls on approach to the Temple hangar. That is _all_."

Quin raised his eyebrow. "Of course, you weren't screaming at him or anything at the time, now were you?"

Obi-Wan's cheeks flushed as he looked down to pour the wine. "I—I could have been, I suppose. But really, was all that necessary? We _all_ know he can fly, for Sith's sake. The whole damn _galaxy_ knows Anakin Skywalker can fly!" He walked over and handed the other Jedi a glass.

Quin nodded as he took a big gulp. "Lighten up, would you? Did you ever think he does that just because he knows it gets your goat _every_ time? Besides, the boy has a new toy—let him play. And, well, he _is _the best pilot out there, hands down." He took another ample drink, looking around the Kenobi-Skywalker residence. "Where is he tonight, anyway?"

Obi-Wan scowled. "Well, after he overheard me on the comm with _you_, we had another fight and he stormed out. The cheeky _bastard_ even had the nerve to say he was going to a holo with _Padme_!" her name coming out in a derisive sneer. "What he sees in that prissy tart I will _never_ understand!"

Quinlan couldn't help but chuckle at the jealous outburst. "Do you hear yourself? Why don't you just tell him how you feel already?"

Obi-Wan's face paled. "I _can't_, Quin, you know that. He's my Padawan for one, and- and he's not interested in me, for another."

"Oh really? And you know this _how_? I think you're just too worried about what is right and proper and the correct protocol and all that other bullshit. It's a nice _theory_, but it's not going to keep you warm at night, Kenobi," he said, giving Obi-Wan a pointed look.

"Thank you, _Master Vos_. I had forgotten how _little_ advice coming from you actually helps," he said with abundant sarcasm.

A smirk caused the yellow tattoo across Quin's face to crinkle. "I don't know, Obi-Wan. You know what a _rogue_ I am, and I don't really give a fuck about protocol. If you don't hurry up, _I _just might have to have me a sample of some Skywalker—"

Obi-Wan's hand shot out instantly, grabbing Quin's arm forcefully, nearly spilling the scarlet alcohol. His eyes darkened as his voice lowered. "Quinlan, fun is fun. This is not. Do not even _think_ about—"

Quin reached over and slowly pried Obi-Wan's fingers off of his arm, meeting his friend's eyes with a dark intensity of their own. "Careful, Obi-Wan. That sounds suspiciously like a threat." Wanting to lighten the mood, he gave his friend a warm smile. "Besides, you know what I want anyway. And tonight is the night!" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Obi-Wan relaxed and waved his hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, Force help poor Aayla, stuck with the likes of you." He gestured toward the door. "Speaking of which, aren't you late for your little… _party_?"

Quin looked at his chrono. "Fuck, yes I am." Dressing quickly, he shot Obi-Wan a look. "You're coming, right? I mean, of all years, you _have _to come tonight! It won't be the same without you."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "And what? Watch your pathetic attempts at seducing your former Padawan? Watch her run to Kit's arms? I don't think so, sorry."

Quin glared. "Fisto's out on Muunilist settling a trade dispute, but thanks for the support. Come on, Obi-Wan! You need to get out of here and stop being so damn _proper_. Come have a good time and forget about Skywalker for once, would you?"

Obi-Wan mulled it over. He'd only snuck away to Knights Out a couple of times with Quin when they were Padawans. Qui-Gon had never approved of the tradition and had forbade Obi-Wan from going, and being the Perfect Padawan, Obi-Wan had obeyed without question. Then came the years when Siri dumped him, Qui-Gon rejected him, and Quin, well, Quin was there with all sorts of temptations.

He started to nod slowly. He hadn't been to Knights Out in all the years he'd been a Master. _Force knows, it would be nice to just go and have some _fun. What harm would it do to go and try to forget Anakin for one night?

"All right, Quin. Just give me a second—I need to change."

"Great!" he called as Obi-Wan walked into the other room. "But for fuck's sake, stay away from your boy toy's leather pants, ok? They make you look short and dumpy!"

_Short and dumpy?_ "Vos, I swear, you better shut that bloody fucking mouth of yours…"

Obi-Wan frowned as he pulled out a pair of loose black trousers and an emerald green button-down shirt that, sadly, got very little use. Obi-Wan was always in his Jedi robes, either as "The Negotiator" representing the Republic or as a stern and proper Master. This, of course, brought his thoughts back to Anakin, his leather pants, and the fact that he was off with Padme doing Force-knew-what. _Damn you, Anakin Skywalker!_ Yes, Knights Out was _exactly_ the thing he needed to rid himself of his ridiculous obsession with his Padawan.

Sith, he'd be happy if he could forget for just one night.

He ran a hand through his tousled auburn hair and smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt, tucking it into the pants that hung low on his hips.. He frowned again, reaching up with a tie to pull the longer strands back off his face. He sighed. _I look so old_, he thought morosely as he viewed his bearded reflection. _I'd be lucky to turn a Hutt's head now_. The thought of Anakin being attracted to him grew more ridiculous the longer he looked in the mirror. Quinlan's voice jarred him out of his self-pity wallowing.

"Come on, fancy pants! Talk about a prissy tart. Stop fussing and let's go!" Quin whined from the doorway. He whistled appreciatively as Obi-Wan walked past him into the common room. "Well, just look at you. Is Master Kenobi, dare I say, on the _prowl_ tonight?"

A blush crept over Obi-Wan as Quin invaded his personal space. "Stop it, Quin. I look old and fairly ridiculous. I'm not even sure why I let you talk me into this."

Quinlan moved even closer, his hands on Obi-Wan's chest. "Because you want to. Hmm...very nice, my friend. Except," Quin purred, reaching up to rip open Obi-Wan's shirt by a couple of buttons, "this is better." His fingers lingered on Obi-Wan's chest for a moment, a heated look passing between them. "There's definitely nothing _old_ about you."

Obi-Wan slowly removed the other Jedi's hands, wishing desperately that they belonged to a different Jedi, one with deep blue eyes and blonde highlights. "Thank you, Quin, really," he said, slightly embarrassed. His hand fluttered nervously up to the skin of his chest, feeling the soft tawny hairs that were now exposed. "Are you _sure_ I don't look—"

Quin groaned loudly. "No, would you quit worrying? Besides, why do you care? It's not like he's going to be there to see you, right? Didn't you say he was out with that hot piece of Nubian—"

"_Quinlan,_ by the ever-loving Force, _shut the fuck up! _ Thanks for reminding me, once again, that he's out with _her_."

"Ok, ok. I'm sorry. Not another word about Skywalker. Can we go now?"

As they left the apartment, Obi-Wan turned to Quinlan. "So, where _are_ we going, anyway?"

"The Outlander."

Obi-Wan smiled weakly. "The Outlander?" he asked hesitantly.

Quin gave him a sheepish look, if that was even a look Quinlan Vos was capable of having. "Oh… um. That, ah, wasn't the place where you and Skywalker…the bounty hunter…?"

Obi-Wan glared. "Yes." _Sith, I can't even go out without it relating to Anakin!_

"Uh, sorry…" Quin chuckled, throwing his arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders.

With annoyance, Obi-Wan shrugged off the other Jedi's arm and climbed into the speeder. _How did this happen? Here I am, going out to an unapproved party like I'm some kind of delinquent, hoping to either drink myself into oblivion or find a substitute for Anakin._ He glanced over at Quinlan, admiring how carefree his friend was, his long dark locks flying out behind him in the wind, a big, confident grin on his face. Obi-Wan sighed sadly; he already had a substitute for Anakin, and that simply wasn't enough anymore.

No, no more substitutes. Tonight was going to be about finding _Obi-Wan Kenobi_ again. Not the Jedi Master, not the fool in love with his Padawan, but the _man_ who used to know how to have a good time. With any luck, he might even do something _reckless_ or _impulsive_.

In other words, he might just have to _relax_.

_If only that wasn't so hard…_


	2. Chapter 2: Pretty Fly for a Jedi

**Disclaimer**: GL owns everything SW. 'nuff said. He's da man.  
**Special Credit:** Offspring, for altered lyrics to _"Pretty Fly For A White Guy"_

This might seriously be the biggest crack!fic you'll ever read. All I can say in my defense is that it was hella fun to write, so I hope you all get a kick out of it! TM and Xtine have both been really sick as of late (hence the delay in posting), so apologies all around for any errors. It is also really long, mostly because I just could not get these chatty Jedi to shut up! I readily admit some characters may be a bit OOC, but I like to think that this is what they might be like on their "down" time. Have fun...

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**Knights Out**  
**_Part 2: Pretty Fly For a Jedi_**

"_All the girlies say he's pretty fly for a Jedi…"_

With an abrupt and certainly reckless swerve, Quinlan pulled into a reserved spot in the parking garage. He turned to his passenger, an excited smile playing across his face. The yellow tattoo across Quin's nose curved up slightly, softening his usually serious demeanor in a completely alluring way. "So, are you ready, or what? Let's go have us a party!"

Obi-Wan grimaced slightly. "Force preserve me, Quinlan. I'm beginning to wonder if you were the one who taught Anakin to drive."

Quin just rolled his eyes and laughed as he hopped gracefully out of the speeder. "Do you complain like that every time he drives or flies you anywhere? Sith, it's no wonder the kid does it—you're too easy."

"Hmm…I don't recall _that_ being one of my better-known attributes," Obi-Wan threw back at Quin, frowning as he ran a hand over his wind-blown hair.

The Kiffar smirked, drawing closer to Obi-Wan. "Would you like me to prove to you right here, in this speeder, just how _easy_ you are?" he challenged. "You might be uptight, but I can't say you're a _tightass…_"

Obi-Wan looked away, feeling himself blush 17 shades of red. "I don't think I've heard you complaining."

"That's for damn sure. And neither will Skywalker when— "

Obi-Wan sent him a searing glare.

"Uh, _sorry_," Quin said with a wry smile and a look on his face that said he was anything _but _sorry. "Hey, don't forget—shields up. We don't want you passing out when you first walk in the door."

Even Obi-Wan had to laugh at that. Force-sensitives, alcohol, and a good party were a heady combination. All of those emotions flying fast and furious through the Force could overwhelm the strongest of Force-users, as Obi-Wan found out his first year at Knights Out. Most Jedi agreed it was part of the excitement of Knights Out to _not _be able to sense much of anything through the Force; it was like having a night off from being a Jedi.

"How could I forget that? I rolled down the bloody stairs, for Sith's sake! How did I ever explain the bruises to Qui-Gon?" he laughed, shaking his head slightly at the memory.

Quinlan raised his dark brow. "How did Qui-Gon even _know_ you had bruises? Let me guess— _'oops, sorry Master, my towel fell off?_'"

Obi-Wan lifted his chin, attempting to look affronted. "I'll have you know, I didn't find a use for that excuse until the _next_ year," he said with a smirk. It was good to be able to joke and laugh when he remembered Qui-Gon now. Quin had helped, certainly, because he'd been there in the days of Obi-Wan's fierce Padawan crush and knew how much he'd loved his Master.

But it had been Anakin's constant presence in Obi-Wan's life since the day Qui-Gon died that had helped Obi-Wan build a life without Qui-Gon in it. Anakin didn't know it, but he had made Obi-Wan complete, filling the hole left in his heart by Qui-Gon, and later, Siri.

_And then I had to go and fall in love _again_. Completely, totally. And utterly foolishly._

Quinlan noticed the melancholy look pass over his friend's face. "No more talk of long-gone masters, ex-lovers, and seriously fucking hot Padawans, ok? Unless we're talking about Aayla, 'cause that's different," he said, swinging his arm over Obi-Wan's shoulders.

Obi-Wan gave him a tight smile. _Easier said than done, Quin. But I'll try._

A warm, fragrant breeze blew out of the open double-doors of The Outlander along with bright lights and a cacophony of sounds. They paused at the top of the stairs, leaning over the railing to take in the scene below them.

Quinlan let out a long low whistle. "Isn't this something else? Hell, I think I just impressed myself."

"I'm sure that isn't too difficult to do on a daily basis, Quin," Obi-Wan said dryly, leaning his elbows on the railing while he looked around. The bad feeling he'd had when they left the Temple was only growing the longer they were here.

Quin narrowed his eyes at Obi-Wan. "Look, I'm only going to say this once, Sulky-Wan. You can sit in your room whining and pouting about your unrequited love for Anakin, _your_ fucking 'Chosen One', all you want tomorrow, but for tonight, I don't want to see that sour look on your face again, and I really don't fucking want to _hear_ your bitching, ok? We're here to have fun, and dammit, you _are_ going to have fun, even if I have to take you back to the 'fresher and remind you just how much fun I can be." A small smile softened his face. "I worked hard to make this night the best Knights Out ever," he said, scanning the crowd for signs of a certain blue-skinned Twilek. Turning back to his friend, he added, "Don't ruin it for me by making me baby-sit you. Got it?"

Obi-Wan was simultaneously angry and embarrassed. _Baby-sit me?_

"I'm sorry you feel I'm such a _burden_, Quinlan. I wouldn't want to spoil the ending of this ridiculously complicated plot you've concocted to ensnare Aayla," he said angrily, yanking his arm away from Quin's grasp. "This was a bad idea and I shouldn't have come. Good luck," he threw out as he turned and started to walk back out the doors.

"Obi-Wan! Come on! Stay!" he heard Quin call, but Obi-Wan didn't care. He stood outside in the evening chill waiting for a hover taxi to arrive.

A strong hand came to rest on his shoulder. "Come on, come back inside, ok?"

Obi-Wan turned to see the dark, concerned eyes of his friend, but had to look away, ashamed. "Quin, I don't think I'll be much fun tonight, and as you said, I don't want you to have to baby-sit me."

Quin gave him a shrug, then looked at his chrono. "I have some time before I need to make an appearance. How about I baby-sit you right over to the bar? You look like you could use a drink. Probably more." He squeezed Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Like old times?"

Obi-Wan gave his friend a hopeful smile. "Are you buying?"

"After what I did for you back at the Temple, _you_ should be paying."

"Quinlan, you're good, but I'm not so desperate as to pay for it."

"Yet, my friend. _Yet_. You should really look into getting a 'Frequent Fuckers Card,' you know? 10 fucks and the 11th is free?" He cackled at the disgusted look on Obi-Wan's face.

"Honestly, Vos, you make a Hutt look cultured, you know that?"

He flashed Obi-Wan a wide grin. "Well, the Hutts do have an appreciation for Twilek females, too, after all…"

Obi-Wan groaned. "You cannot get me a drink fast enough. Really."

As they descended the stairs, the festive atmosphere wrapped itself around Obi-Wan, invading his senses. The dizzying play of lights led his eyes to walls, ceiling, dancers, groups huddled in close conversation at tables, and even, if he concentrated, couples engaged in anything _but_ conversation in some of the darkened corners. _Glad to see that Knights Out hasn't changed all that much_. He squinted— _no_. No, that couldn't be. He could have sworn he saw Adi Gallia giving Plo Koon a lap dance. _Force save me—and wipe that image from my mind forever!_ The crowds shifted to thankfully obscure his line of vision. He _really_ needed a drink now.

The music, to his surprise, was infectious and, he had to admit, seductive. Obi-Wan, even in his earlier days, had never been much of a dancer. It was one of those cruel tricks of the Force that his grace and agility with a lightsabre left him completely when there was no mortal threat and music was involved. Still, he couldn't help the pull he felt on his body to move in time to the heavy bass.

Arriving at the bar, Quinlan placed a small shot glass filled with blue liquid in his hand. Holding his own up to Obi-Wan's, he clinked the glasses. "To Knights Out. To fun, friends, and fucking!" he toasted, then threw back the shot in one gulp. Leaning in to Obi-Wan, he whispered loudly to be heard over the music. "Should I have added '_to fucking friends'_ too?"

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "Oh, Quinlan, so funny are you!" he said dryly.

Looking around, Obi-Wan noticed the looks they were drawing. At first he had assumed they were for Quinlan, who was not only the host, but seemed to draw attention wherever he went with his tattoos, long dark dreadlocks, and impressive build. But as Obi-Wan glanced about, he found sets of eyes that met and tried to hold his, along with smiles that promised more than a simple hello. Obi-Wan looked back to Quinlan, unnerved and suddenly extremely self-conscious. He ran his hand nervously over his hair and straightened his shirt.

Obi-Wan nudged Quinlan, leaning in close to whisper. "Why is everyone staring at me? Do I look that bad?" he asked in a voice that went high with near-hysteric paranoia.

Quinlan looked around before responding, a sly grin on his face. "It's probably because they don't _recognize_ you! You forget, most of them are Paddies and new Knights who only know you as Master Stick-in-his-Ass Kenobi, all buttoned-up in his robes all day long. I know you don't believe me, but damn, you are fucking _on_ tonight! I expect I'll be pulling _your_ ass out of the 'fresher to go home later. That is, if you don't go in there and start whining about Sky— "

"Stars' end, Quin, like I would do that. Not everything is about _him_, you know," he said defensively.

Quin gave him a wicked look. "Oh, right…'cause you don't do that with me. You, my friend, are such a _liar_. _Everything_ is about him."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Consider yourself privileged, then," he said, taking another drink and looking around. He ordered another round and handed Quin his shot. "My turn. To getting everything we want!"

"Everything we want! Yes!" Glasses clinked and wrists flicked the pale blue contents of the shots into open mouths.

Quinlan motioned the bartender to leave the bottle with them. "Ok, ok, my turn. To Padawans! May they always be hot and completely fuckable, only older next time!"

"Definitely older!" Another round of shots were put away.

Obi-Wan felt the warmth of the liquor begin to spread through his body. "You go—I can't think yet." He realized that not only couldn't he think quite straight, but remaining on the bar stool was already becoming a bit of an exercise in balance.

A smirk lit up Quin's face, a look that Obi-Wan knew meant something completely irreverent was about to pass from his lips. Quin didn't disappoint.

"Hmmm…to Master Bates. May we not need his services tonight!"

"To Master Bates!" Obi-Wan blindly agreed, but then his face crinkled up in distaste as comprehension slowly dawned on him. "Quinlan Vos!" he exclaimed with just the right amount of mock outrage. "I have _never_ used his services! Must you always be so…_vulgar_?" He gave Quin a cheeky smile. "I, myself, prefer to perform the _Jedi Hand Trick_." Obi-Wan calmly reached over, poured another shot, and downed it.

The look on Quinlan's face was priceless. Eyebrows raised, Quin leaned in and gave him a soft, yet very passionate kiss. He clapped Obi-Wan on the shoulder. "Now _there's_ the Obi-Wan Kenobi I remember! Welcome back!"

Surprised and slightly pleased by Quinlan's alcohol-induced affection, Obi-Wan could only nod. He gave Quin a wide smile, trying to hide his inner Sulky-Wan that threatened to come out.

"It's good to be back." Obi-Wan wondered briefly what Anakin would think of him, making crude jokes and carrying on in public like a horny Padawan. Would Anakin be surprised? Would he like it? Is this the way he wanted Obi-Wan to be?

_As if he'd even be thinking about you, old man. He's with Padme, remember?_

Scowling, Obi-Wan went to pour another round, only to find they'd emptied the bottle already. He looked up and down the bar. "Where's that bartender? We need a refill!" Obi-Wan was pretty sure he was slurring already, a sure sign he'd had plenty to drink. On the other hand, he was _still_ thinking about Anakin, so he'd clearly not had _enough_.

Quinlan waved off the bartender. "Whoa, my friend. I know you'd like to end up in the 'fresher tonight, but not head first. Hey!" He raised his arm and gave a short wave. "That fucker Windu's over there, probably cheating some Paddies out of their credits playing sabacc, or worse. Do you remember that year when we played strip poker with him?"

Obi-Wan made a face of disgust. "Force, Quin, I'd really like to forget that, if you please."

Quin smirked. "Well, I'll never forget it—it was the first time I saw that freckled ass of yours, and knew I wanted— ow! What was that for?" he whined, rubbing his arm.

"That, Vos, was to remind you that _unlike_ you, I do not wish to remember every lewd thing I've ever done, much less revel in it. It was a regrettable evening, as I recall."

"Not so— that was the first time we were together, remember?"

"Exactly my point."

---

"_Anaaaaakkkiiin!"_

Choking on a mouthful of ale, Anakin turned just in time to get a face-full of soft dark hair as long slender arms wrapped around his neck. He stiffened reflexively, not immediately identifying his assailant, although he had to admit it felt pretty good to have _someone_ pressed up against him..

"Er…hi? Umm…" The hair blob pulled away, allowing him to see the bright smile of one very tipsy Barriss Offee. "Barriss!" He looked her over, appreciating just how good his long-time friend looked in her fitted pinstripe pants and silk top that was cut conservatively in the front, but, as he'd felt, was open in the back down to her waist. He'd always felt close to Barriss, but their timing had never been right. Any time they'd tried it ended in uncomfortable giggles. Now…well, he knew the reason why. She wasn't Obi-Wan.

Barriss gave him one last squeeze before letting go. "Anakin! How long have you been here? Are you alone? Have you seen anyone else? Where's Ferus and Tru? Did you know they're a couple now? Isn't that like so bizarre? It is like SO crazy out there; you _have_ to come with us! Come and dance! _Pleeeeease?_" she finished with a gulp of air, reaching up to smooth some of the more errant strands of hair out of her eyes.

"Stars, Barriss, slow down!" Anakin laughed, amused that the normally placid Healer Padawan could get so wound up after a few drinks. "Where's Aayla? And what have you been drinking?" he asked, looking around somewhat uneasily. Although they were all friends, he still felt a little shy around Aayla after the last Knights Out, but particularly because she was a Knight now, while he was _still_ just a Padawan.

In a sing-songy voice with breath that could easily intoxicate a rancor, she proudly ticked off the drinks. "Weeelll…some guys bought us Hapan Hangovers, then we did some Flaming Ewok shots with Master Luminara, then someone handed me a Blue Sith Lightning…and, oh, a Sarlacc Spit. Blech!" She made a face. "_Don't_ recommend that one!"

Anakin laughed at Barriss, pulling her down to the stool. "Sarlacc Spit? Blast, Barriss, what made you think…nevermind! Where's Aayla?" he asked again.

She looked around the crowd. "She was right behind me! I don't see her yet, but she's kind of in a funk because we saw Master Vos with a _totally_ hot guy—Force, Anakin, you should see him," she exclaimed with wide eyes and a smile that stretched her tattoos across her cheeks.

Anakin wasn't surprised; Quinlan Vos was hot property and had a reputation with the ladies…and with the gentlemen. Anakin was shocked his Master hadn't said anything about it; Obi-Wan was always grumbling about Vos' sexual exploits, while Anakin loved to hear all the juicy details. _Obi-Wan's probably jealous_, he thought spitefully.

"Well, who was it?" he asked, suddenly very interested. Anakin loved to gossip as much as the girls— fortunately they seemed to do all the dirty work for him.

"That's just it— we don't know! I mean, he seemed somewhat familiar, and yet not, you know? We only saw them from a distance— they were outside, actually— but he's _hot_ and he's built and he's got this gorgeous hair…" Barriss said excitedly, jumping up and down as she clung to Anakin's arm.

Anakin was only half-listening, his mind wandering rebelliously to a certain Jedi with gorgeous hair of his own. Hair that begged to have long fingers comb through it while the owner of said hair was busy somewhere else, bringing Anakin to a staggering climax…

"Anakin! Did you hear me?"

_Fuck!_ "Uhh.. yeah. Hot guy with Vos…so what?"

She gave him a friendly nudge. "What is _wrong_ with you tonight? Did you have another fight with Obi-Wan?"

Anakin snorted, rolled his eyes, and turned around to face the bar. Barriss would make an excellent Healer someday, Anakin noted, simply because she was so observant, even when three sheets to the wind.

Anakin felt her hand on his shoulder, patting it sympathetically. "Are you _ever_ going to tell him?"

He whipped back around to face Barriss, his eyes wide with shock. "Tell him what?"

She laughed. "Come on, Anakin. I know how you feel about him— I knew the first time I met you on Ansion. I could tell by the way you looked at him, how you talked about him, and, well, you just _suck_ at shielding."

Anakin groaned, feeling the flush of warmth on his face. "Obi-Wan says my shielding is impressive— he gets totally pissed that he can't poke around in my brain like other Masters can with their Padawans."

With a toss of her head, Barriss stood up and poked a finger at his chest. "Yeah, well, I'm a Healer _and_ a girl— I know these things. Last time I looked, your Master was _aaaallll_ man!" she drawled, until it gave her a case of the giggles.

"What's so funny?"

"You, dumbass. You're at Knights Out, with a string of _completely_ indecent adventures here— don't think I don't know about you and Ferus last year!— and dressed to _kill_ tonight— do you even know how hot you look?— and you're sitting her pouting at the bar. So you and Obi-Wan had a fight." She shrugged, then gave him what could only be considered a naughty look. "Let's go have some fun and then you can go home and kiss and make up. And I do mean _kiss_. Can I watch?" she asked with a wiggle to her eyebrows.

Anakin didn't know if he should be embarrassed or turned on by the thought of Barriss _watching_ him with Obi-Wan. _Get a grip, Skywalker. Like that would ever happen._ "Blast, Barriss! Is there anything you don't know or won't say?" he said flabbergasted.

Barriss opened her mouth to reply. Maybe it was just the ale Anakin had, or the charged atmosphere of the club, or just the _thought_ of kissing Obi-Wan that made him do it, but he suddenly found his lips crushing down on Barriss'.

"Well, it's about damn time the two of you hooked up," came the high-pitched lilting voice of Aayla Secura from behind them. "I thought you'd at least have the decency to take it private. I know _personally _how much you like the 'fresher, Sexy-Kin."

Barriss pushed Anakin away roughly, her face red and flustered. "What the Sith was _that_? I thought we were _friends_, Anakin. I'm nobody's substitute, got that?" she yelled as she hit him in the chest.

Anakin was completely horrified. _What the hell did I just do?_ "Barriss, I-I—" But Barriss had already started to leave, her hand offering him a galactic gesture that needed no translation. "Barriss!" he yelled after her.

"Anakin, let her go. Give her 10 minutes and a Corellian Crusher and she'll be just fine." Aayla reached over and punched him hard in the arm.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"What the _fuck_ do you think, honey? Since when do you go around making out with friends? Ok, other than me, but then, I'm the exception to the rule…" she said, stroking her wildly adorned lekku suggestively.

Anakin pushed his earlier fears aside— obviously Aayla didn't hold any regrets over last year. Even if he had Obi-Wan on the brain, it was hard not to appreciate Aayla's lack of… subtlety. Dressed in lavender hot pants and a matching tank, it was obvious what Aayla was all about tonight. _No wonder I ended up in the 'fresher with her last year. Stars!_

Aayla's eyes narrowed. "Barriss is your friend, fucktard, and a good one at that. What's wrong with you? Did you have a fight with Obi-Wan?"

_Sith hells! Does everyone know?_ Anakin waved a hand at her dismissively. "Aayla, I swear, don't start. I came here to _forget_ it. Is it so much to ask that I have a Kenobi-free evening?"

Aayla laughed and reached up to pat his cheek. "No, Sexy-Kin, but it isn't like that's even possible for you. All I know is if Obi-Wan Kenobi was _my_ Master, I wouldn't be wasting my time here. I'd be home doing everything I could to get that sexy man in my bed!"

Anakin snorted and took a sip of his ale. "Now _that's_ funny! The host of this shindig _is_ your Master, Aayla, and as I recall, isn't tonight _the_ night for you and Vos?"

She rolled her eyes, mildly disinterested. "Oh…that. Yeah, Quinny thinks he's going to get a piece of this Twilek tonight, but we'll see." Aayla looked around, her lekku swinging off her shoulders to the delight of several admirers. "I'm just not sure he's that in to me, Anakin. Besides, look around! It's Knights Out— so many pretty possibilities. I just want to keep all my options open." She took a sip of a purple gaseous drink that had been delivered as a gift from an admirer somewhere down the bar.

"Aayla, you're something else. That sounds like something Vos would say."

"Well, I learned from the best. Don't get me wrong, Quinny's definitely hot and I've waited a long time for him to want me, but now there's Kit and— "

Anakin's mouth gaped in surprise. "Master Fisto? You and Fisto? Isn't he a little…_old_ for you?" Not that he'd know the aging cycle of a Nautolan any more than he did of the Twilek in front of him, but Kit Fisto was a Council Member, after all. That undoubtedly made him _old_.

"So says the Padawan lusting after _his_ much older Master. Obi-Wan _is_ hot, Sexy-Kin, in his _'I'm-a-completely-repressed-Master'_ kind of way, but face it, he's _old_," Aayla said matter-of-factly.

"My Master is not old!" he cried defensively. _Repressed? Definitely._

"Come on, he has gray hair, Anakin! A sign of aging in you humans, right?" Aayla teased.

"Just a little. Besides, it makes him look…distinguished!" _And sexy. Force, so completely sexy._

Aayla just rolled her eyes, unconvinced. "I've heard he's going to be named to the Council."

"So will I!" Anakin said with a lift to his chin. "I'll be the youngest Master ever named to the Council."

Aayla's eyes widened as she snorted out a laugh. "You're so arrogant! You're only 21. You're not even a _Knight_ yet." she said incredulously.

Anakin slammed his ale down on the bar. "Aayla, he's only 37! That's _not_ old! He's in the prime of his life, I'll have you know. You should see him when he— "

Aayla gave up and laughed. "Force, Sexy-Kin, listen to yourself! See, I knew you couldn't have a— what did you call it— Kenobi-free night. I should call you Lovey-Kin."

Anakin groaned, embarrassed that he'd lapsed into gushing about his Master like a lovelorn boy. _Which is exactly what I am. Fuck._ "Please, can we just talk about _anything_ else? Tell me about Vos— Barriss said he was here. Have you see him yet?"

Aayla's lekku twitched at the mention of her Master. "Hell yes, and he is in fine form tonight, damn him. I swear, now that I'm a Knight, and not living with him, he's got somebody over there at all hours." She took another sip of her drink and licked the rim of the glass, to the utter delight of many at the bar. "I knew Quinny was a big horny beast, but the sex parade is getting out of control, even for him. And now he's got this hot new guy—Anakin, you should see him! He's— " she exclaimed, her fingernails raking down Anakin's chest in her excitement.

Anakin took one long last drink of ale, waving the bottle in the air at her. "Yeah, yeah. Hot guy. I'll believe it when I see him. Don't you think Barriss should have been back by now? Where do you think she went, anyway?"

Aayla pouted slightly, a look that was completely seductive on a Twilek, but was obviously lost on Anakin. Mildly frustrated with her inability to get Anakin's attention, she gave up. "To the 'fresher, I'm sure. You'd better go check on her, Kissy-Kin, before she does something stupid. You know how pouty Barriss can get…"

A memory of Barriss' 21st birthday party flashed through Anakin's mind. Barriss had perceived that no one was listening to her at her own party and that too many people were hooking up. She had stood on the bar and Force-threw drinks at all her guests before telling all them she hoped they all got the Intergalactic Clap. The night had ended in the 'fresher with Anakin and Aayla holding back Barriss' hair as she threw up and swore off all fruity drinks. He groaned again, recalling just how many fruity drinks she'd already consumed tonight.

"Force, you're right. Good luck with hunting down Vos and his _friend_. They're probably in the 'fresher already— want me to take a look for you? Who knows, Aayla—maybe you can have them both?" he teased with a wicked grin.

Aayla gave a lascivious lick to her full and certainly pouty lips. "Oh, Sexy-Kin, you _know_ it!" she said, walking away with a wave and a sensuous swing to her hips.

Heading for the 'fresher, he couldn't help but admire her attitude about _her_ former Master being in public with someone else. Not that it would ever remotely happen, Obi-Wan being Obi-Wan, but if he ever saw his Master in another's arms, or worse, kissing someone… _I'd probably end up making a total ass out of myself, and Obi-Wan would be beyond furious. And the look…fuck, the look would be the worst._

_Can you stop thinking about him for 5 minutes? Or long enough to get drunk? Or at least long enough to think about somebody else? _he mentally whacked himself. _Barriss, where the hell are you?_

_---_

"Helluva party, Vos!" Mace Windu shouted over the music, clapping Quin on the back. "Come on, we're just starting another round." Obi-Wan looked at the faces assembled around the table and just had to shake his head in wonderment. In addition to Mace sat Ki-Adi-Mundi, Luminara Unduli, and Master Yoda, who was adorned with what appeared to be an extremely over-sized _red_ Twilekkian headdress, complete with bells.

There could only be one explanation.

_Oh dear Force, they're playing Asshole_.

The last time Obi-Wan played this game with the Masters he'd been the Asshole for most of the game, having to bow to everyone's demands as was the role of said Asshole in the game. As he recalled, Mace had managed to be the President for most of the game, setting the rules for each round. For whatever reason, Mace seemed to take great delight in creating inane rules that seemingly involved making Obi-Wan take a drink. Obi-Wan, of course, got completely intoxicated. As Quin took great delight in retelling later, Obi-Wan stood up at one point and told all the Masters _they_ were assholes and should go fuck themselves accordingly, before stumbling off to pass out under a tree in the Gardens.

No, he _definitely _wasn't going to play. By the glassy look of Master Yoda's eyes and the way he somehow was actually making _sense_, he'd been the Asshole most of the night, too. "Masters, good evening," Obi-Wan said, bowing slightly.

Mace looked at him a second before recognition dawned. "Obi-Wan Kenobi? By the fucking stars, _you're_ at a party? _This_ party? Turn around, would you? I didn't even recognize you without that sabre up your ass!" he cackled, obviously pleased with his big bad self.

Yoda tilted his head comically to the side, the bells on the headdress jingling as they caught the light. "Yourself you should fuck, Master Windu. Has a point, though, Mace does, Obi-Wan. Look like yourself, you do not," the little green troll said, blinking several times and letting out what Obi-Wan could have sworn was a disgusting belch.

"I think it is a welcome change, Obi-Wan. Come, friend, take a seat over here," Luminara patted the empty seat next to her. "So what brings you out tonight? Did you have a fight with Anakin again?"

Obi-Wan stiffened defensively, then turned slowly to glare at Quin. Doing his best to look around nonchalantly, Quin finally gave up and just shrugged, giving him his best _'What?'_ look.

"Quinlan…" Obi-Wan growled softly. "As a matter of fact, I'm here to actually have some _fun_. Thanks for the invite to the game, but I need to— "

A hand on his shoulder pushed him down on to the chair. Obi-Wan looked up in surprise as a shapely leg covered in a thigh-high black boot stretched in front of his eyes and a long lithe body came to rest on his lap. "Hello, Obi-Wan. It has been a long time, hasn't it?" said a seductively low voice, arms wrapping around his neck.

Obi-Wan looked up into the blue, blue eyes of Siri Tachi. He found himself momentarily lost in the memory of those eyes. The eyes he had loved a lifetime ago. Eyes that had loved him. Eyes that had nearly killed him when they turned cold and she left him.

"Uh…hello Siri. Uh…yes, it has been a long time." How long had it been? He didn't remember, but the sudden tightness of his pants indicated his body hadn't forgotten completely.

"You look good, Obi, much too good, " she said in a voice laden with intent, one long fingernail running along his jaw line, the other scratching a line down his back through the thin fabric of his shirt. Her eyes caught his again, searching and devouring…

In an instant he remembered. He remembered how good it felt to lose himself in someone's eyes, to drown in a passion that they both shared.

He knew who he wanted.

And it wasn't Siri Tachi. As much as he'd imagined this moment, as much as he had longed for it, for Siri, he didn't want her. Not anymore. _Dammit, Anakin! I want you!_

"I know, Siri—what, are you regretting your decision?" he said sarcastically as he patted her cheek with mock sincerity. He sounded bored as his eyes turned dark and cold. "Now if you're done riding me like a bitch in heat, kindly get _off_ me."

To a chorus of low whistles and "oohs" from around the table, the tall blonde slid off of Obi-Wan's lap. Standing up, he made a show of running his hand down Quin's arm and locking their fingers together. "Quinlan, let's go. I _love_ this song," he said, walking away from the stares of the Masters and the fury he saw building in Siri's icy glare.

When they were out of sight, Obi-Wan yanked his fingers away from his friend's and let out a shuddered breath. Quinlan turned to him, bewildered. "Just what the hell was that? I thought you were looking for a good time— my friend, it doesn't get much better than that! And since when do you _dance_?"

Obi-Wan felt his insides turn over as his momentary fit of courage fled like a skittish purri cat. "I _don't_. But I had to get away from _her_. You know what she did to me, you were there, remember? Force, Quin, what did I ever see in Siri?"

Quin turned back to give Siri a long once-over. "Oh, I don't know…long legs, kicking attitude, nice full round — "

Obi-Wan cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Nevermind. Why I asked you, I'll never know…" Putting a hand to his chin, he looked around, completely dismayed. "Quin, why am I here? I should just leave. This is turning out to be a disaster."

"Don't even start with that crap, Pouty-Wan. Come on. After that show with Siri, you owe me a dance." He grabbed Obi-Wan's hand, pulling him towards the dancefloor.

A look of horror crossed Obi-Wan's face as he rooted his feet to the floor. "Oh no. I don't think so. You _know_ I don't dance! All those bodies, bumping and grinding and…_sweating_…"

"Then, my friend, you haven't had enough to drink, if you're still mooning about Skywalker and fussing about sweating. You didn't seem to mind sweating earlier tonight…" Quin trailed off with a licentious grin. He looked at his chrono. "Look, I have to go make an appearance, so why don't you go get a drink, and then we'll meet up for that dance. What do you say?"

_Sulky-Wan says fuck you, Quinlan._ Obi-Wan gave Quin his best fake smile. "I don't think there's enough alcohol on Coruscant to make me dance, Quin, but I'll certainly take you up on that drink." He shooed Quin away. "Go— your public awaits, _Master_ Vos."

----

Back at the table, Siri Tachi was seething. _No one_ made a fool out of her; certainly not her ex-lover, the one _she'd_ dismissed so easily when they were Padawans.

"Heh, Tachi, he sure got you," Mace chuckled. "Face it, you've been replaced baby, and that sultry little number you did isn't going to work on him anymore." He cocked an eyebrow suggestively. "However, I can say it has a very good chance of working with me…"

Siri glared at him before turning back to scan the crowd for Obi-Wan. "You wish, Windu. Why don't you go find someone else to rub your head—both of them," she bit back.

Yoda held up his hand. "Stop, you both will. Master Tachi, your chance with Obi-Wan you blew." He stopped, bringing a clawed hand to his mouth. "Say that, did I just?" he giggled, a disturbing noise on its own. "Belongs to another, his heart does. Know that, we _all_ do, why do you not?"

Siri whirled around to look at the table of Masters, all of whom had this terrible mix of looks on their faces, some amused, some pitying. "Who? Quinlan Vos?" she snorted, imagining such a thing. "Vos cares for no one more than his own cock. But Obi-Wan? _Riiight._"

Then out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a tall and completely _smoldering_ young man sauntering by, his perfectly shaped chest hugged by a deep blue shirt that matched eyes that were utterly too familiar. She unconsciously licked her lips in appreciation, even as she noticed that he wore the tell-tale braid.

That walk. Those leather pants. Those _lips._ She remembered those lips.

_Anakin Skywalker_.

"It's _Skywalker_?" she asked incredulously. "He's in love with his own Padawan? How…_cute_," she said with a sneer. She could hardly fault Obi-Wan's taste—after all, had it not been for Luminara's intervention last year, Siri would have given Obi-Wan's great love a night to remember.

A wicked smile formed on her full pink lips. Perhaps it was time to finish up what she started a year ago. She imagined the look on Obi-Wan's face when he saw her in his beloved, and decidedly _hot_, Padawan's arms, her lips brushing against his, Anakin's hands roaming across her… If she couldn't have the Master, the Padawan was one hell of a consolation prize. That it would infuriate the normally implacable Obi-Wan Kenobi was simply an added bonus.

With a toss of her long blond hair and a determined look on her face, she headed off towards the 'fresher.

_Anakin Skywalker, you are mine…  
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TBC  
_


	3. Chapter 3: Can't Get You Out of My Head

I'm back!! Almost a year later, but I'm here to wrap up Anakin and Obi-Wan's adventures at Knights Out. Thank you to everyone who's reviewed this story over the last year and have asked kindly, and persistently, lol, for an update. It really, really helped me.

Thank you to brynneryn, for her beta and her patience in hearing me fret forever about this. May we behave better than Barriss and Aayla!

This is absolutely for hyypchick, who kept this story alive and has been my very patient muse. Love you!

**Disclaimer:** All the characters belong to GL & Co. I'm just having fun! "Can't Get You Out of My Head," words and music, belong to Kylie Minogue.**  
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Knights Out**

**Part 3: Can't Get You Out of My Head **

_**"I just can't get you out of my head, boy it's more than I dare to think about…"** _—Kylie Minogue, "Can't Get You Out of My Head".

_Barriss, where the fuck are you?_ Anakin had crossed the throng of dancers _twice_ in search of his long-time and very drunk and pouty friend, and even endured more than his fair share of pinches, pokes, and—he couldn't be sure about this but he'd swear it was a _tentacle_—groping his ass. It alarmed him to admit that not only had it been the most action he'd seen the whole night, but that it had, sadly, kind of turned him on.

"_You'd better go check on her, Kissy-Kin, before she does something stupid."_ Aayla's words echoed in Anakin's mind as he stopped and surveyed the crowd yet again, pursing his lips in concentration. He took a long drink from the second of two bottles of ale he'd swiped off of a tray on its way to some Master's table. The first one had disappeared in one long gulp—the second, he was proud to say, wouldn't be far behind. _So much for not getting drunk_, he thought with a small hiccup. He couldn't find Barriss, but at least he'd stopped thinking about fucking Obi-Wan, and, well, _fucking_ Obi-Wan. _Well, that didn't last long. Fuck!_ He'd have to find more to drink.

_I seriously need to either get fucked or become like Obi-Wan,_ he thought miserably. Of course, getting fucked _by_ Obi-Wan would solve both those issues. He shook his head slightly, trying to purge that particularly annoying and yet persistent image from his mind. He on his hands and knees in their quarters, or better still, pushed up against the wall, maybe in the Gardens, no—the Council Chambers, yes, the Council Chambers—his Master's breath hot and moist on his neck, large, experienced hands moving down to grip his—

"Are you lost, baby? Maybe I can help?" a soft voice purred in his ear, abruptly jostling Anakin out of his fantasy. Feeling an arm—he hoped it was an arm this time—snake around his waist, Anakin groaned with impatience.

"Stang! Listen, hands off, ok?" he started, grabbing at the arm and turning around…into the face of Master Siri Tachi. Suddenly, the foggy images from last year's Knights Out came sharply into focus. _Siri's lips on his, her tongue plunging into his mouth, her palm pressing hard against his cock… _

"M-m-master Tachi. Um, hi. Um… yeah. I mean, no. I mean I'm...uh…looking for my-my friend," he managed to stutter out. _Very smooth, dumbass. Aayla would laugh her ass off if she heard y__ou, Sexy-Kin. _

"Whoever she is, let her go," Siri said, waving her hand dismissively. She smiled seductively as her hand slid up to stroke his cheek. "How are you, Anakin? I haven't seen you much since last year. You haven't been avoiding me, have you?"

_Sith hell I have! Obi-Wan would _kill_ me if he knew what almost happened._

He licked his lips nervously as he continued to look around frantically for someone, _anyone_, he knew. Being near Siri was an invitation to disaster. There were more than enough Masters around, especially that asshole Windu, who'd _love_ to rat him out to Obi-Wan and tell him all about how his Padawan was carrying on with his ex-…_whatever_ she was. Siri was a legend all her own, a temptress, a sex kitten, a _man-eater_. With her long legs, sun-kissed blonde looks, rosy lips, and a body with curves in _all_ the right places, she was the star of many an adolescent Padawan's self-administered fantasies.

Which made it all the more incredible that his _Master_, of all people, had been involved with Siri. Of course, Obi-Wan had never told him much, other than grudgingly admitting to an _'illicit __involvement'_ as a Padawan as part of some kind of lesson about the dangers of attachment or sexually transmitted diseases or having _fun_ or some other tenet of the Code that precious few of the Masters seemed to follow anyway, Anakin noted, as he looked around the club. Furthermore, Anakin found it hard to believe that Obi-Wan would be allow himself to get _involved_, period.

He sighed inwardly. He didn't _want_ Siri. But then again, he wasn't about to tell her that. He liked all his man parts where they were just fine, thank you.

"N-no, of course not. I've just been b-busy, you know? With missions and training and getting ready for the t-trials," he stammered, as a manicured red fingernail trailed down his cheek and on to his chest.

She tilted her head a little and gave him a sly smile. "Of course, darling. Obi-Wan keeps you very busy, doesn't he? It must not be easy to be his apprentice, with all his rules, rules, rules," she said slowly, petting his chest to emphasize each word.

Anakin couldn't help but nod. "My Master has high standards, yes." Anakin again thought about how Obi-Wan would lose his mind if he knew his Padawan was in this den of debauchery. But Anakin just_ had_ to get away, away from the man who simultaneously frustrated him beyond belief and turned him on to a degree that in no way could be considered normal.

Siri laughed to herself as she watched Anakin stiffen at the mention of his Master's name. _Stars, he has it bad for Obi-Wan, too! Oh, this is going to be fun. Obi-Wan, you'll never know what hit you. Payback's a bitch._

"It's no wonder you're here every year. It's not like _Obi-Wan_ would ever understand. I mean, can you imagine _him_ here?" Siri laughed and pulled him closer, pressing her body up against his. "He doesn't understand people like us, Anakin. We need to let loose, to have fun," she said in a low voice, her breath light and feathery against his cheek, "and to _feel_ our emotions."

"Obi-Wan? _Here?_" Anakin's voice cracked from the heady combination of Siri's nearness and the effects of the two ales he'd recently downed. His defenses dulled, he heard himself laughing and felt his body responding to Siri, despite the inner voice that was shouting _Run! Run! Run!_ "Uh…no. My master doesn't understand…me. Us. I mean, people like us."

Siri leaned in close, her lips grazing his ear softly. "_I_ understand you, Anakin. Why don't we go and find some…fun?" she suggested, nipping the lobe.

A shiver of excitement ran through Anakin, mixed with a little guilt and a whole lot of frustration. What he really wanted was Obi-Wan. He'd always wanted Obi-Wan. But he also knew he could never _have_ Obi-Wan. It was all so damn unfair—here was _Siri Tachi_ hitting on him, interested in _him_, and he was worrying about his uptight sexless Master who was no doubt at home right now in slippers and a flannel robe reading the latest issue of _Jedi Home Journal_ for a new way to polish the 'fresher tile, if he wasn't meditating his way to a higher communion with the Force.

When Siri's body pressed against him once more, his decision was made. He'd have a higher communion of his own tonight, dammit, one that involved more alcohol, more fun, and definitely, _absolutely_, his cock. Yes, he'd find a higher communion that had nothing to do with the Force or his Master and everything to do with his cock.

_This is your fault Obi-Wan!_ a part of him thought miserably, only to be drowned out by loud music as Siri led him toward the dance floor.

---

Arriving at the bar, Obi-Wan motioned to the bartender. "Just give me something…fruity, would you?" He looked around, hoping that what had thus far served as a disguise, his lack of robes, was still working. The entire Order didn't need to know that The Negotiator, while sulking, preferred his drinks fruity with an ornate umbrella decoration.

The night was definitely _not_ going well. In fact, the _whole day_ was not going well. How had he let Quinlan convince him to come to Knights Out? Maybe he _was_ easy, like Quin said. A good roll with Quinlan and suddenly he's at the biggest hedonistic party of the year? One thing Obi-Wan knew for certain was that he had absolutely no intention of dancing with Quinlan Vos out in that sweaty throng on the dance floor. There simply wasn't enough alcohol on Coruscant. Maybe not even in the Core.

When the bartender handed him the giant glass filled with a concoction that was orangey-brown and swirled with white and red streaks, he wasn't disappointed. Taking a sip from the pink straw, his eyebrows shot up from the influx of sweetness and alcohol. He nodded his thanks to the bartender. "It's good—what is it?" he shouted across the bar.

The bartender, a non-human species with a strong Outer-Rim accent, shouted back. "It's a Nubian Ass Tea."

The fruity concoction flew everywhere when Obi-Wan choked and spit it out. "A _what?_" _Nubian Ass Tea?_ _The Force _hates_ me. Of all the things to be drinking._

From the seat next to him, he heard giggles erupt. "It's a Nubian _Iced_ Tea, not _ass_ tea!"

_Iced Tea? _He didn't know if he should be relieved or not. Quin was right about one thing. He sighed. _Everything _is _about Anakin._ He would have sworn the guy had said _ass_ tea. Nevertheless, it was Nubian, which made him think of Padmé, who was with Anakin, probably naked by now… He sighed deeply. Well, Nubian Ass Tea or not, it was still tasty alcohol, and he _needed_ more of it. It would be the only way to get Anakin out of his head tonight. At least he had to hope so.

Obi-Wan turned slightly towards the voice that, while slightly slurred, was also _very_ familiar. He cringed inwardly and turned back to the bar when he realized it was none other than Anakin's good friend, Barriss Offee. _Just what I need—she'll go running straight to Anakin, telling him how his pathetic Master was downing __frou-frou drinks alone at Knights Out. Force willing, maybe she won't recognize me. _

"Ah, yes. Thank you for that…clarification. You seem to have been enjoying them? I must admit it is a very flavorful combination," he gave her a slight smile before returning to contemplate taking another sip of his now-questionable beverage, "once you get past its unfortunate affiliation with Naboo, " he muttered. _Maybe if I don't look at her, she'll go away? Quinlan, _where_ are you?_

Startling him, Barriss leaned over and bumped shoulders with Obi-Wan, giggling again. "It's _really_ good, isn't it? I've had, um…" Obi-Wan watched in mixed shock and amusement as the attractive Padawan clumsily counted out on her fingers. "Thwee. Uh, no. Four. Yes," she bobbed her head emphatically, "four. You should drink up—I heard Master Yoda lost his all his credits to Master Windu." She lowered her voice, leaning in close and blowing sweet alcohol-tainted breath in his face. "I heard it might involve a lap dance. Is that _ewww_ or what?"

Obi-Wan blinked sharply, sitting back abruptly as his nose was assaulted by the intoxicating scent permeating Barriss' aura. He ran a hand quickly over his face as he tried to purge the horrifying thought from his mind. "By the stars, it just never ends…" he mumbled wearily. He looked up and gave Barriss a nod, tossing back his drink in a couple of quick gulps. "Barriss, perhaps it would be best if you stopped—"

"Told you it was good!" she grinned, taking a handful of popcorn and munching loudly. She cocked her head, looking at Obi-Wan's profile with suspicion. "How'd you know that's my name? Hey…do I know you? You look sorta familiar."

Obi-Wan reluctantly turned toward her as her hand fell on his shoulder. "Wait! You're Master Vos' mys-mys-mystery man! Ooh! I can't wait to tell Aayla and An—" Suddenly, her hand rose to clamp over her mouth, her eyes growing wide as recognition dawned.

"M-m-master Kenobi? _Holy_ _fuck_! I-I mean, oh, _Force!_ I mean…uh…you're _here_? But you…you…I mean, you look…and Master Vos…and…" she trailed off in shock, her words failing her abominably. Barriss winced, taking a huge gulp of her Nubian Iced Tea to stifle the rest of the banthas that apparently were more than willing to come charging out of her mouth. She straightened up, trying feebly to brush aside the errant strands of hair that had stuck themselves to her drink-moist lips.

Obi-Wan sighed heavily, shaking his head. _It's worse than I thought—not only does she recognize me, but this…this getup…it's horrified the poor girl._ "Yes, Barriss, even _I_ do get out from time to time," he said, squinting into the bottom of his sadly empty glass. "Fucking Quinlan, I knew I looked the part of the idiot in these clothes," he mumbled to himself.

"All this fine alcohol, a beautiful woman, and you're _still_ whining, Kenobi?" Obi-Wan startled when Quinlan's strong arms suddenly enveloped his shoulders from behind. The Kiffar, ever the flirt, reached over to tuck a lock of Barriss' hair behind her ear, a leer forming on his features as his eyes raked her over.

"Why, Barriss Offee, where have you been all night?" His fingers trailed casually down her cheek as he watched with feral satisfaction at the blush creeping across her tattooed cheeks. "You look breathtaking this evening, sweetheart—what's a hot young thing like yourself doing sitting alone at the bar with the likes of Kenobi here?"

Barriss looked up at the dark, roguish Jedi, her eyes starry and a little unfocused. "Uh…M-master Vos…_hi_…" she gushed, her eyes flying quickly to Obi-Wan's and then back to Quinlan's. "I'm not alone. Well, I mean, I'm alone _now_." She looked at Obi-Wan and winced. "Oh, I'm sorry Master Kenobi, I didn't mean it like that…" Flushed with embarrassment, Barriss clumsily reached over and grabbed a shot from the Padawan next to her, downing it quickly. "Sorry," she murmured, followed by loud hiccup.

Obi-Wan reached back and elbowed Quinlan sharply. "Barriss, please forgive _Master_ Vos' unseemly behavior. He can't help it—Luminara says it's a genetic abnormality with no known cure." He looked up at the Kiffar, offering him a cheeky smirk.

Too late, Obi-Wan realized that was exactly the opening Quinlan was looking for, when Quinlan proceeded to hug him tighter and nuzzled his cheek. "Oh, _honey_, it's not such a bad thing—after all, you like it when I talk dirty." He chuckled when he felt Obi-Wan's warm blush against his cheek.

"_Quinlan…" _Obi-Wan growled.

An unmistakable high-pitched voice drawled over the hum of the crowd and throbbing beat of the music. "_There_ you are, Barriss! This is what you've been up to, getting liquored up at the bar by strangers?" Sauntering through the crowd that seemed to magically part around her, Aayla sounded indignant, but the saucy grin on her face said otherwise.

"Oh honey, I'm so proud of you!" she squealed, hugging Barriss around the shoulders. "I tell you, Barriss, there's too many men, and not nearly enough time tonight. Kinda makes a girl work up a thirst, you know?" she winked, then turned to lean over the bar, inciting a round of appreciative moans and craned necks as her petite, voluptuous frame stretched to get the bartender's attention.

"I've been in every damn 'fresher stall in the place looking for you, hooker. Holy shit, do you know how many there are here? Honey, I've seen things…" her hand fluttered over her eyes, "I've seen things that no one _ever_ needs to see! I didn't see any evidence of any Dark Side, but I saw hell of enough of the backsides of this Order to last me a lifetime. Freaky kinky-assed Masters—would you believe Jocasta Nu's a fucking _dominatrix_?" She giggled as Barriss' mouth fell open in shock. "Yeah, that's right—the librarian gets her kink on with leather and whips." The Twilek shook her head in amazement. "What that woman can do with a whip."

With a tall, silvery Mandalorian Mindwipe in hand, she slid off the bar, smoothing a hand over the front of her lavender tank. "Why're you so quiet?" She peered into Barriss' eyes suspiciously, and then laughed. "You're not still mad, are you? Come on, he didn't mean anything by it—he's just, you know, _in love_, and that makes him act like Jackass Jedi. Have you seen him? What about Quinny and his mystery man?" She stopped when Barriss pointed surreptitiously over Aayla's shoulder, her eyes growing wide with alarm. "What? Is he around?"

"Right behind you, sweetheart."

Aayla swung around, surprised, her lekku flying and nearly taking out Barriss and two unsuspecting Padawans nearby. "Quinny! I've hardly seen you tonight!"

Quinlan grinned and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I've been busy, you know, with my—how did you say it—_mystery man_." A smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. "But don't you worry, Aayla. There's more than enough Quinny to share, but I'm saving my best for you."

Aayla rolled her eyes, turning up her nose. "Oh, you think so? Maybe I've changed my mind." She looked down and pretended to regard her nails with great interest. "I heard Kit might be coming after all—_he _knows how to treat a lady." She pushed her former Master aside, proffering a hand to his companion. "Hi honey, I'm sorry that Quinny has absolutely no manners whatsoever. I'm Aayla. And you are?"

Obi-Wan reluctantly moved out from behind Quinlan's broad shoulder, taking Aayla's small blue hand in his. "I've been apologizing for him for years," he said, raising his head and running his other hand through his hair nervously. He offered her an embarrassed smile. "Obi-Wan Kenobi. I think perhaps we've met, Knight Secura."

Aayla froze in shock, looking back and forth from Obi-Wan to Quinlan. "Master Kenobi? _You're_ Quinlan's hottie?" She looked at Quinlan incredulously. "Come on, Quinny. You're totally fucking with me, aren't you?" Aayla turned to Barriss, who only rolled her eyes and took another sip of her drink, and then back to Quinlan. "Shut. _Up_."

_Oh, this night just gets better and better, _Obi-Wan thought, wondering just what _else_ could possibly go wrong.

"Aayla, you need not worry, I'm merely Quinlan's—"

"Date. My _date_." Quin turned to Obi-Wan, pulling him close. "No need to deny the truth, Obi-Wan."

Aayla face broke out into a huge, suggestive grin. "Mmm…_damn_, Master Kenobi, but the younger guys don't have anything on you." She took a sip of her drink, licking the sugary foam from her upper lip. "Too bad you're already spoken for, isn't it?" she said lightly, flicking a look over to an increasingly flushed Barriss.

Obi-Wan reddened, stammering out his words. It was bad enough that both Barriss and Aayla thought he was somehow Quinlan's _hottie_, a vulgar term in itself, but the all the more embarrassed that here he was, a _Master_ and a _Council Member_, and he was reduced to babbling by an inebriated Padawan and a cheeky new Knight. "Sp-spoken for? Oh, no. Quinlan and I…it's not like that…"

Aayla chattered on excitedly, waving away Obi-Wan's meek protests. "Does Anakin know about, um, the two of you? He's never said anything and he _loves_ to talk about—" She cut off when the sharp point of a dress shoe bit into her calf. Aayla turned to Barriss, mouthing _"What?_" to her friend, before turning back to Obi-Wan with a forced smile.

Barriss stood up, swaying, and yanked on one of Aayla's lekku. "Aayla, we, uh, need to, uh…go. 'Fresher." She yanked harder, grabbing Aayla's shoulder with her other hand. "To the 'fresher. _Now_."

Obi-Wan's eyebrows shot up. "Anakin? No, of course Anakin doesn't know anything—_there's nothing to know!_" He put a hand over his mouth and closed his eyes, momentarily entertaining the fantasy of throwing himself upon his lightsabre and wondering if that would be less humiliating. "Quinlan, please, tell them, would you?"

"Hey, if that's the way you want to play it, _snookums_," Quin cooed, rubbing Obi-Wan's back affectionately, trying, but failing, to look affronted when Obi-Wan scowled.

Aayla smirked, licking her lips provocatively. "_Right_. Well, we'll leave you two _alone_ then." She gave them an exaggeratedly sweet smile. "Maybe I'll see you later, Quinny. If, you know, you're not too tired. Or if Kit doesn't find me first." She blew a kiss at her former Master and linked arms with Barriss, leading her away from the bar.

"We have a deal, sweetheart!" he called. "Forget about the Nautolan—he clashes with your skin, anyway!" Quinlan bit his lip, and blew out a breath as he watched them go. "Damn, she just gets hotter and hotter, doesn't she? Shit, and what I couldn't do with her _and_ Barriss."

Obi-Wan shrugged Quin's arms off of his shoulders roughly, watching as the young women blended into the crowd. "As _if _Luminara would let you anywhere near her," he mumbled. "By the stars, was all that really necessary? I am well aware of your deviant predilections when it comes to the youth of the Order—you've made quite a legend of yourself, one which I have no doubt you are highly proud of—so you need not fill me in, thank you very much. And I _certainly_ don't need the whole Order thinking we are together!" he finished in a huff.

Quinlan crossed his arms, waiting for Obi-Wan to finish. "Ok, first off, I don't think you cared if the whole Order heardyou when we _were_ together earlier, Obi-Wan. And second, I don't think you care if the Order knows shit about shit—all you're worried about is Barriss running off to blab her big mouth—and sweet fucking Force, the things I bet she can do with that mouth—to your boy."

Obi-Wan turned around slowly, his green eyes glaring into Quinlan's. "I would think," he said quietly, "that it would be most detrimental to your seduction attempts for your _girl_ to think we are together, Quinlan."

Quin shrugged and grinned knowingly. "You don't know Aayla like I do—she was my apprentice, remember? She learned from the best," he boasted proudly. "She likes a good challenge, and if she thinks I'm with you, well, lets just say a little competition _motivates_ Aayla." He smirked at his friend, running a hand down Obi-Wan's arm. "Hey, like it or not, Obi-Wan, you're a fucking hot commodity. No one's been in those pants of yours in years, as far as anyone _else_ knows. I, of course, have been in them so many times that they're kinda like a second home to me. _What?_" he whined, when Obi-Wan grunted with disgust and looked away.

"Anyway, if _I_ happened to be the one to loosen the laces, well…I think it speaks well of my…_talents_, don't you think?" He flashed a wide grin, all teeth, at his friend. "Maybe it would work the same on Skywalker, if he heard you actually _knew_ what your cock was for? I could arrange that, you know?" he offered with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Obi-Wan just stared for a moment, completely flabbergasted at his friend's audacious logic. "The way your mind works…there's the Light Side, the Dark Side, and then there's the Vos Side. Quite possibly the most dangerous and frightening of them all. The Sith have nothing on you." He frowned, pursing his lips. "I'm sure Anakin's…_needs_…are being more than adequately met by his Nubian Nightmare," he spit out bitterly.

Quinlan threw his head back and roared. "If only your students could see this _very _mature side of prim and proper Master Kenobi—how he's following the well-known ancient tenets of the Code: _'A Jedi Shall Have Unbridled Jealousy'_ and _'A Jedi Shall Defame All Busty Nubian Senators That May Be Fucking My Padawan.'_"

Obi-Wan clapped slowly. "Really, Quinlan, you do amuse, don't you?"

"Come on, that was funny!" he said with mock indignance, checking the dance floor for any sign of Aayla and, well, _anyone_. He didn't see his former Padawan, but his eyes settled on something far more interesting.

He tugged on Obi-Wan's hand. "Come here, Sulky-Wan. Ol' Quinny's got something to show you."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Quin, I _know_ you've got better pick up lines than that. You don't seriously think I believe that one works? Although, considering the source, perhaps it does," he quipped, reluctantly allowing his friend to drag him away from the bar.

"Trust me, you're gonna want to see this." Quinlan nodded and smiled to various Jedi as he moved them slowly through the thick crowd on the way to the dance floor.

"I do believe I've seen it before. Earlier tonight, in fact. As I recall, it's not nearly as impressive as it once was," Obi-Wan replied dryly.

Quin looked over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow and a cocky smile. "Hey now, I hear no complaints when you're all _'Yes, Quin! Fuck me hard, Quin! Grunt-grunt-grunt I love your huge cock, Quin!'_"

Obi-Wan smacked him hard. "Quinlan Vos, I've _never_ said that!"

"Well, ok, so I added on the _'I love your huge cock'_ part. But," he winked, "you and I both know you do!" He pulled Obi-Wan close and began to sway to the music.

Obi-Wan stiffened and wiggled around. "Quin, you know I hate dancing like this. It's too hot and," he sniffed the air, "a tauntaun likely smells better. Please."

Quinlan pulled him even closer, his lips close to Obi-Wan's ear. "Shut it, and stop complaining. Look to your left, at about three couples over. Believe me, it's worth it."

"Quin, come on, let me go. Is it Aayla? Because honestly, I'm not interested in some adolescent game of 'pat my ass' in order to make her jealous. You'll have to find some other accomplice—" Obi-Wan's words cut off as he gripped Quinlan's shoulders tighter, staring in disbelief.

"See it now?"

"What in the bloody fucking _hell_ is that?" Obi-Wan exclaimed, laughing. "Sith, Siri has truly outdone herself this time—I mean, this one's just a boy. And look at the way they way they are carrying on—she's going to eat him alive." He patted Quinlan's bare shoulder excitedly. "I can't tell who it is—can you? Don't tell me it's Ferus?"

"As if you're one to talk about having indecent thoughts for your own padawan, Lusty-Wan." Quinlan snorted, then held up a hand against Obi-Wan's protest. "I know, I know. I'm no better. Now let me see." Quinlan swung them around to get a better look.

"You're feeling better, aren't you? I told you, all you needed was a good fuck, provided by _me_, a couple of drinks, provided by _me_, and a good party, also provided by _whom_? Oh, that's right, _me_. I told you you'd forget all about Sky…walker…" Quinlan gulped and his face froze momentarily when he got a good look at Siri's partner.

There was Skywalker, stupid shit-eating grin and all, giving him the "thumbs up" and raising his eyebrows in apparent approval at Quin and his companion. _Well, I gotta give it to the kid—he's not only picked the hottest ticket in the place, but the best way to stick it to Kenobi, and I'd bet he has no fucking clue his Master's here, either. Stupid shit. This'll be worse than the time Obi-Wan found Qui-Gon, Mace, and Tahl together—it took a lot of fucking blowjobs and a trip to a Falleen masseuse to get him over that one. _

"Uh, nah, no one we know. Probably a…a…waiter. Or a…a…cook. I mean, who cares, really?" he said hastily, struggling to block Obi-Wan's view. "Hey, yeah, you're right, let's get out of here. Quinny here has just what you need, you just gotta come and get it," he said, suggestively pressing himself against Obi-Wan. Quin nipped at his chin, swiping his tongue over both lips. "Come on, the 'fresher calls" he said with a wink and a leer, tugging at Obi-Wan's arm.

Obi-Wan pulled back, distracted, struggling to see around Quinlan to get a good view of Siri. "What are you on about now?" He looked at Quinlan suspiciously. "Yes, I'm feeling better than I have all night, but really Vos, the _'fresher_? I'm certainly _not_ going into any filthy 'fresher like most of your conquests are so willing to do with," he made his voice high-pitched and breathy, "_Master Vossss_."

He tugged on his friend, moving them closer to Siri. "Honestly, Quinlan, I can't really see much when she's got her tongue jammed down his throat like that. Come on." Obi-Wan winked at him wickedly. "This is right up your alley. It'll be fun…." he sing-songed.

Emboldened by several shots and one fruity Nubian Iced Tea, Obi-Wan stumbled drunkenly over to Siri, reaching over and tapping her shoulder. "Master Tachi, surely he'll last longer if you let him breathe. Really Siri, trolling the nursery for victims now, are we? He's a little young, even by your most _generous_ standards."

Pulling playfully on the boy's padawan braid, he cleared his throat with what he hoped was some kind of intimidating authority, or as much as he could muster while happily drunk and ensconced comfortably in Quinlan's arms. He put his hand over his mouth, unsuccessfully stifling the sniggers of delight he felt at being able to harass Siri like this—especially after her contemptible display with him in front of the Masters earlier.

"Padawan, as a member of the Council and a Master, of course not _your_ Master, but as a _Master_," he began, shouting over the loud pounding music and swaying rather precariously forward towards the boy, "I do feel it is my duty to inform you that this…this…Master _Trampy_, I mean, Master _Tachi_, is by no means an appropriate consort for one such as your young self."

Anakin felt the tug on his braid, and through his alcohol- and lust- laden fog, swore that he heard _Obi-Wan's_ voice. He groaned into Siri's warm mouth, eagerly accepting her tongue again, forcing the voice out of his mind. _No thinking of Obi-Wan. Siri, think of Siri, dumbass. Her hand's on your cock, for Sith's sake! In public. Obi-Wan would never do that. _Anakin felt himself harden more at that thought. _Would he? Has he?_ _Dammit, no more Obi-Wan_! He pulled Siri closer, his hand petting her ass over her tight skirt.

Siri gave Obi-Wan a satisfied smirk as she pulled away from her boy toy's wet mouth, licking his full swollen lips one last time before turning him around. "Anakin, baby, look. It _is _your master. Hello, Obi-Wan." She ran a hand down the back of Anakin's sweat-darkened shirt, resting it on the small of his back possessively. "Apparently he _does_ go to Knights Out, after all. Who knew? You were saying, Obi-Wan?" she smiled demurely.

"_Anakin?"_

Anakin gaped and blinked, certain his last shot had to have been laced with glitterstim and he was therefore hallucinating. His master, _Obi-Wan_, was not only at Knights Out, but appeared to be…_socializing_. Without his robes. Or a protocol droid, for that matter. _Fuck! Now I'm hallucinating him? In tight pants and a shirt that hides nothing? I'm losing it. _

"Oh, this is…_awkward_. You didn't know the other was here? And here I'd always been told you two were so close," Siri purred, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Uh, so not helping, Siri…" Quin said under his breath with a shake of his head.

"_What_ are you doing here, Anakin? You said you were going out with…with…" Obi-Wan gestured to the air helplessly.

"The Nubian Nightmare?" Quinlan offered helpfully. Obi-Wan glared at him. "What? Hey, your words, my friend, not mine."

"Padmé," Anakin said defiantly, "her name is _Padmé_, and…and…"

Obi-Wan felt the anger and hurt wash over him in a torrent. "And you lied. You lied to me Anakin, like some petulant child who didn't get his way."

Siri stroked Anakin's back, squeezing his bicep. "Now Obi-Wan, don't be so upset. Anakin and I were just getting reacquainted after last year." She raked her eyes over his chest and back to Obi-Wan. "I'd hardly call your padawan a child. He's _all_ grown up now—I'm surprised you haven't, er, _noticed_. I most certainly have." She pressed up against Anakin's side, running her fingers over his ear and down his braid.

Anakin felt the familiar anger and frustration surge through him at being dismissed as a child by Obi-Wan. "I'm nineteen, Master, and nearly a Knight, not that you'd ever bother to notice. Ok, so I lied, but you'd never have let me come otherwise—admit it. What are you doing here anyway? You hate this kind of thing, and it's not like you have a date—" His words trailed off when he realized just _where _Obi-Wan was, and with _whom_. _Obi-Wan…and Master _Vos_? No, it can't be, they're friends, they're just friends. _The thought sent a jealous stab to his heart.

"Don't have a date?" Obi-Wan was furious. "Just because I'm your Master, a job that has taken most of my adult life, I might add, and given me more gray hair than anyone my age, does not mean I don't occasionally want to _have fun_. I'm here, and I'm _having fun_, and Quinlan is my date, I'll have you know, and we are…we are having _fun!_" he shouted defensively.

Anakin blinked and cringed, not sure if he was hurt more by the attack or by the fact that his Master was, it seemed, actually _with_ Master Vos. "I'm sorry, Master—I didn't realize that insulting me and _my_ date provided such _fun_ for you," he shot back angrily.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, too hurt and too drunk to stop the words. "Your _date_? Anakin, she's not interested in _you_, she's just trying to get back at _me_. Surely you didn't think…" He snorted derisively. "Of course you did. Oh, Anakin, I'm truly sorry to inform you otherwise, but your _date_ is no better than a common whore."

Quinlan shook his head. _Oh, fucking hell. Here we go._

Anakin's eyes narrowed, his mouth opening in outrage. "You're…you're…just jealous, because Siri is with me and not you!"

Obi-Wan's chest heaved as the music pounded around him and the lights swirled and played with the colors that danced across Anakin's face. He'd never felt more angry, nor more jealous, than he did at that moment. Never mind that Anakin was _right_, if for the wrong reason. "_Jealous_? Please, let me disabuse you of your delusions of grandeur."

Impulsively, he reached up and grabbed a handful of Quinlan's dark dreadlocks, tugging his mouth down to his own, kissing him long and hard, his tongue dancing wantonly into Quinlan's open mouth. After a few moments, he broke off the kiss and turned back to Anakin with look that was both challenging and smug.

"Obi-Wan, what the—" Quin started, only to be cut off by a sharp, painful squeeze of his fingers.

Siri clicked her tongue. "Hmm…yes, not jealous _at all_," she snickered quietly.

"We will talk about this tomorrow, Padawan. I suggest you enjoy your evening with your _date_—after tonight, I wouldn't expect that you'll have much time for any further fraternization. With anyone." He turned abruptly and pulled the Kiffar with him, starting to move through the crowd.

Anakin felt the jealousy and anger surging through him, but he refused to give Obi-Wan the satisfaction of losing his temper. "Yes, _Master_," he said through gritted teeth as he watched them leave. "I can't believe him! I wish…I wish… Why is he even _here_?" he seethed, his hands clenching and unclenching in frustration.

"He's just trying to control you, darling. Is there anything I can do," Siri pressed against him, running a hand over his ass and squeezing it as she nuzzled his cheek, "to make you feel better?" she asked, ghosting her lips over his set jaw.

She looked up into his angry blue eyes, seeing the hurt and jealousy there. _Oh, my poor little Anakin. Obi-Wan, you did all the work for me. _Giving him a sultry stare, she licked her lips and brought one of his hands to her mouth, slowly sucking in one of his fingers.

Anakin felt his anger abate when he felt Siri's tongue on his finger and her hand on his ass. _Holy fuck—who wouldn't be jealous of this?_ he thought, looking down at Siri's red lips wrapped around his finger, groaning as he imagined those same lips wrapped around his cock. A fleeting image crossed Anakin's mind, not of Siri on her knees for him, but of Obi-Wan, Anakin's hands twisting in his Master's hair…Anakin involuntarily moaned and bit his lip. _I don't want Obi-Wan. I _don't_. Ok, I do, but I'm mad, and I don't want to want him. He's a pompous fucking ass. Whose ass I want to be fucking. Fuck! This has to stop._

Forcing himself to look happy, he slowly, seductively, slid his finger out of Siri's mouth. "As a matter of fact, there is. I really, really need more to drink."

_And I really, really hope it helps. _He looked at Siri's ass as she led the way to the bar. _A good fuck wouldn't hurt either. At this point I'd take a bad fuck. _Any_ fuck. Anything to get Obi-Wan out of my head. _

He sighed, wondering if that was even possible.

---

Obi-Wan blew out a frustrated breath as he and Quinlan stepped outside onto one of several semi-private balconies the Outlander had. Semi-private, as near as Obi-Wan could deduce, merely meant that large pots of topiary from a host of worlds populated the concrete space, providing the illusion of privacy. The illusion was shattered, however, when he heard a Barabel's predatory hiss and a Wookiee's mating howl. _Force save me_, he thought, wiping a hand over his face before leaning his arms over the railing. He hung his head, letting the cool breezes blow through his hair.

"I cannot believe him. He lied to me! He lied, and he's here, and he's making a complete ass out of himself with _her_," he said, his body shaking slightly with the anger and hurt he still felt.

Quinlan joined him at the rail, leaning against his friend's shoulder. He nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, so Skywalker's here, and he said he'd be somewhere else. Big fucking deal, Obi-Wan." Quin turned to face him, poking his shoulder gently. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Do about it? What am I going to do about it? I should, I should…"

"You should what?"

Obi-Wan thought of Anakin. Anakin with Siri draped all over him. Anakin's defiant words that were betrayed by the hurt look in his eyes at Obi-Wan's scathing comments. _He doesn't want me here, and Force help me, I don't think I can stand to see them together again, either._

"I should never have come here. Please Quinlan, just take me home."

"What? Skywalker, the boy you've been mooning over since for-fucking-_ever_, is here, _with Siri_, and you want to go home? No. Nuh-uh," he said, shaking his head. "No way."

"No? What do you mean, no? I said I wanted to go home, and I mean it. I'm not going to stay here and be made to watch that…that…_that_! With them!" Obi-Wan shouted, pointing in towards the party angrily. He pulled away from the railing and started to head for the door. "Come on, we're leaving."

Quinlan grabbed his shoulder, turning him around. "No. _I_ am not leaving, Obi-Wan. I'm the host, and as the host, I cannot leave, and as the host, I am insisting that you cannot leave, either. Besides," he said with a quick kiss to the cheek, "you're my date, remember? How would it look if my date left me?"

"I'm sure you're reputation will survive, Quinlan," Obi-Wan said hotly. "You cannot order me about like some kind of idiot youngling! I am bloody well leaving!"

"Obi-Wan, listen to me! You know Siri. You _know_ what she's like. Skywalker's in way over his head. Look at him—she's gonna eat the kid up!" Quinlan laughed, and then pulled Obi-Wan back to him gently. "Listen, I know how you feel about him. We _all_ know how you feel about him. I'm willing to bet you he might just feel the same."

Obi-Wan stared at his friend incredulously. "Just how much have you had to drink? Did you not just see them in there? Didn't you hear what he said?"

"Yeah, I heard what he said, but I heard what _you _said too, Petty-Wan." He held Obi-Wan's chin with his fingertips and grinned. "What I witnessed was, I think, an escalation of the ongoing Kenobi-Skywalker courtship. You hurt him, he hurt you, you're both heated up, so go home and _fucking do it already!_ I'll even bring the wine, and I promise not to touch," he joked, trying to lighten his friend's increasingly dark mood.

Obi-Wan snorted contemptuously. "What a sacrifice you're offering, Quin—I never knew you were such a giver." Obi-Wan folded his arms across himself defensively, looking away. "There is nothing between us, and there never will be," he said quietly. "How could there be? Anakin is young, he's attractive, and he doesn't need nor want an old man like me."

Quinlan rolled his eyes. "Sith, do I hear fucking violins? _'Anakin is young, he's attractive, and he doesn't need nor want an old man like me.'_" Quinlan imitated in his best _"I'm an aristocratic whiny ass" _voice. "Nothing between you two? _Riiiight_. And I'm a fucking eunuch and this is a fucking prayer meeting," he chuckled, shoulders shaking.

Obi-Wan couldn't help but laugh at the image of a "holy" Quinlan Vos. "Now there's an image I'm likely never to forget." His green eyes looked up and pleaded with Quin's dark ones. "Please, Quin, just let me…let me go home."

Quinlan put an arm around his friend's shoulders. "Alright, alright. But come have one more drink with me? _Then_ Sulky-Wan can go home and put on his fuzzy slippers, ok?"

Obi-Wan shot an exasperated look at the other Jedi, but nodded. "_One_ more drink, and then I'm putting this miserable excuse for a night behind me. Lead the way, Eunuch Vos."

_One more drink, and maybe it will be enough for me to forget Anakin, too._

---

_Now, this is more like it_, Anakin thought with satisfaction, as Siri's tongue traced a line from his collarbone to his ear, ending with a bite far gentler than her reputation allowed. When her tongue dipped into his ear, he threw back his head, just about forgetting about Obi-Wan, their fight, all of it.

Siri offered him another shot from a passing waiter's tray and he downed it quickly, sloppily wiping his lips with the back of his hand. "Mmm… got another one there?"

_Oh, kitten, you should have listened to your Master. I play to win, and you're the prize tonight_, she thought, a wicked grin forming on her lips. "Oh, I don't know, Anakin," she said coyly. "I'm not sure your Master would approve."

Anakin shook his head slowly, the three shots he'd already had going straight to his brain. "Don't talk 'bout him," he slurred. "Doesn't matter—I do what I want," he said slowly and emphatically, thumping his own chest. _Stupid rules. Stupid Obi-Wan. Stupid party. _

Siri pulled a stumbling Anakin to his feet, leading him to the center of the bar. "Yes, you do, don't you?" she cooed, leaning in to suck on his pouting lower lip.

"Well then, I have just the thing to make you forget all about Obi-Wan Kenobi, baby."

_TBC_


	4. Chapter 4: Add It Up

They're back! I'm back!

Special thanks to Aynslee for the beta, and to hyypchick, for all her love and support these past months. pets lekku Aayla's just for you, love!

**Warnings:** Implied slash, hint of femslash, cough het.  
**Disclaimer:** Only Knights Out belongs to me. Everything else belongs to GL & Co. Also, the song, "Add It Up" belongs to the Violent Femmes.

* * *

Chapter 4: Add It Up

"_**Why can't I get just one fuck? I guess it's got something to do with luck. But I waited my whole life for just one." **__Violent Femmes, "Add It Up."_

"Slow down, I totally just knocked Master Koon's drink out of his hand, Barriss!" Aayla whined, tripping once more when the heel of her fringed white stiletto boot caught on the edge of the carpet. "Barriss, stop!" she yelled again, bending down to free her heel.

Barriss turned abruptly, her hair fanning out behind her, cheeks flushed and breath coming in short pants. "Come _on_, Aayla! We've got to find him before they do!"

"Who? Anakin? _Please_. The best thing for that boy, and for his _fine_ master—did you _see _that man, 'Rissy?— would be for them to find each other." Aayla lifted her arm and leaned provocatively against a pillar, her other hand running slowly down the length of one of her lekku as she scanned the crowd.

Barriss stared at her Twi'lek friend with annoyance. "You can't be serious? Anakin's going to completely lose it if he sees Obi-Wan and Quinlan together. He _loves _Obi-Wan—you know that! How would you feel if you found out something like that by surprise, _here_, of all places?"

"Sith, Barriss, I _did _find out here!" Aayla shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "Honey, those two are no more _'together'_," she said, making quotation marks in the air with her fingers, "than you and I are. Quinny suddenly serious? No way. Are they fucking? That _wouldn't_ surprise me—I mean, they've been friends forever, Quinny'll fuck just about anything with a Force-signature, and come on, you've known Obi-Wan for as long as I have—no one can stay that repressed for that long, living with Sexy-Kin, so you do the math. Two horny guys, one not getting any and needing to keep it a secret?" She nodded her head emphatically. "Yeah, _totally_ fucking."

She slowly ran her tongue over her glossy upper lip while the image played out in her mind. "Damn hot thought, though, isn't it? I wonder...who do you think tops?" she mused, her eyes lighting up from the lurid thought. "Oh, it has to be Quinny. He'd shove Obi-Wan over the edge of the couch, grab a handful of Obi-Wan's hair, thrusting—"

"Aayla! Blast, stop it! You're as bad as your Master, you know that?" Barriss chided with exasperation. "Anyway, it wouldn't be over a couch, it would be in the shower, up against the tile, both of them wet..." she trailed off dreamily, nibbling on the end of her thumb.

"Ooh, Barriss Offee, such deviant thoughts," Aayla said flippantly, pulling Barriss' thumb out of her mouth. "Rissy, you've had that fantasy since you were thirteen and we stole that holovid from Luminara's stash! You need a new one, okay? Something besides two men fucking in a shower—Sith, you can go down to the training room 'fresher and see that any day of the week. Ferus and Tru put on a pretty good show, if you're interested." She laughed and slid off the pillar, adjusted her skimpy lavender tank, and started for the far end of the club.

"Where are you going?" Barriss shouted into the crowd, stumbling as she tried to catch up to Aayla, the press of bodies conspiring with the alcohol she'd consumed to impair her ability to negotiate both physical and mental functions simultaneously. "Aayla, he's our friend—he would do the same for us. Don't forget how he covered for us in Master Tiin's flight lab that one time—when we were both so hungover we couldn't even climb into a cockpit, much less fly. We'd have flunked for sure."

Aayla stopped and heaved an impatient sigh, trying not to laugh as her friend weaved ungracefully through the crowd. "Okay. _Okay_. We'll go rescue Baby-Kin and get him out of here, somehow."

She angled her head across the dance floor to a door with a long queue of Padawans, and another shorter queue of Masters. "You want to know where he is? My money's on some 'fresher stall in there, if last year was any indication," she said knowingly. "He'd have no problem charming his way to the front of the line, either. All he'd need would be a little pout, a flutter of lashes over big blue eyes, and he'd be in there no problem. It's not _fair,_ 'Rissy. A boy should not be _allowed_ to have that much pretty."

Barriss pouted and nodded. "Tha's right, he shouldn't," she agreed, her words slurring just a bit. "Try going on a mission with that—I'd have had a better chance in a room full of Jawas."

"Come on, then," Aayla said, grabbing Barriss' hand and yanking her forward. "Let's check out the 'freshers. But after that? You are _so_ buying me a drink, bitch."

----

Anakin leaned against the bar with a pleased sigh, a smug smile forming on his lips.

_Siri Tachi..._Master_ Tachi...just got on her knees and sucked me off. Now _this_ is Knights Out! _ Grinning proudly, he replayed the encounter again behind his now-closed lids.

_After the demeaning and embarrassing scene with Obi-Wan, they had been on their way to the bar for the drink Anakin so desperately needed, when Siri had suddenly pushed him into a semi-dark recess in the wall of the Outlander._

_He couldn't remember how many shots he had done with her, but apparently it was enough to diminish his ability to realize that his pants were open and her hand was expertly stroking his cock to an increasingly uncomfortable hardness. Anakin moaned appreciatively when her tongue began to fuck his mouth in tandem with her strokes._

_Siri's breath was hot against his flushed cheek when she pulled back. "Don't you worry baby, I can help you feel better right now," she murmured seductively, slowly sliding down his body, every inch of her pressing against him, increasing his desire for release. "I know what you need, and you need it now, don't you?"_

_Anakin nodded drunkenly as he looked down at Siri. "Yessss," he moaned, when her warm wet mouth closed around his length. He _needed_ this—this was exactly why he came to Knights Out and exactly what he had wanted. _

_And that was the problem. It was what he _had_ wanted. Then Obi-Wan had come along and fucked it all up for him, just like he always seemed to do lately._

_As Siri worked her tongue around the tip of his cock, Anakin tried desperately to concentrate on the sinfully attractive and apparently very orally talented blonde at work beneath him. His body was more than willing—that had thankfully never been a problem for him. His mind, however, was insistent on imagining a very orally talented auburn head going down on him, sucking and licking and..._

_Throwing his head back, Anakin squeezed his eyes shut. "Oh, oh, oh..." _Obi-Wan_, Anakin cried out silently as the fantasy vividly played out in his mind. When Obi-Wanton reached up and clutched his ass, Anakin's knees buckled and he came hard and fast, panting as his hands scrabbled against the wall for support. He struggled to remain upright, as much from his level of intoxication as from achieving a very needed—hell, _necessary—_orgasm._

Gripping blindly at the edge of the bar top, Anakin's brow wrinkled, realizing with a resigned frustration that not only was he thinking about his Master _again_, but it was the thought of Obi-Wan, not Siri, that had gotten him off. _Fuck it, and fuck you, Obi-Wanker Kenobi._ _Force!, _he thought angrily, banging his fist on the bar,_ if only I could!_

A familiar, high-pitched voice suddenly trilled loudly in his ear, startling him and nearly knocking him off the barstool. "Where the fuck have you been, Sexy-Kin? First 'Rissy wanders off, then you disappear...I swear, I'm getting tired of babysitting you fucktards tonight," Aayla complained, punching Anakin squarely in the arm to emphasize her displeasure.

"Ow! For Sith's sake, _what_? Trust me, it's been one _hell _of a night, Aayla," he growled, rubbing his tender arm. "Hey, did you ever find Barriss? I couldn't find her anywhere, well, I mean, I got sidetracked and I, uh, saw uh, and then uh..." he stuttered, chewing his lip nervously and then breaking into a shy smile when he saw Barriss following behind her.

"Barriss! Hey, um..." he stood to embrace his friend, only to find that he was still more than a little buzzed. He swaggered over to Barriss, arms outstretched. "Hey, are you okay? I'm sorry 'bout before...I..."

Barriss waved him off understandingly, returning a warmhearted smile. "Is's not 'portant, Anakin. Don' worry about it—I know you didn't mean anythin' by it." She struggled to keep her drunken form upright as Anakin leaned his arms heavily on her shoulders, precariously swaying them both back and forth. "Listen, we should go, 'kay? I'm...I'm tired and, and..._and_...Aayla..._Aayla_ wants to go, too, right?" She turned and yelled, _"Aayla!"_

Aayla, who had been looking around the crowd in vain for Kit, Quin, or _anyone_ who could possibly show her a better time than her current companions, turned and frowned in confusion. "What? I fucking do no— oh, uh. Yeah, Sexy-Kin, let's go. Come on," she said absently, not moving a millimeter, her gaze returning to the mass of party-goers.

Anakin backed away from Barriss, shaking his head slowly as he looked at them both suspiciously. "I know what you're trying to do, but you can forget it. Secret's out." Anakin shrugged, hoping he looked more indifferent than he felt. "I saw Obi-Wan, he saw me, he's mad, what else is new?" He turned and grabbed a new bottle of ale, taking a quick gulp.

Aayla swore under her breath. "Okay, then let's just go—Knight's Out is a bust this year, anyway," she declared, knowing full well she'd be back within the hour, with any luck.

Anakin gestured toward the crowd with a wide sweep of his arm. "Why would I leave all _this,_ now? Just because Obi-Wan is here with the _esteemed_ Quinlan Vos?" he said sarcastically. "Nuh-uh." He took another long drink and slammed the bottle back on the bar, giving them a strained smile.

"Look, I'm _fine_. Why wouldn't I be?" he said, shrugging with a confidence he really didn't feel, after that humiliating scene with Obi-Wan—it was bad enough that his Master had chastised him like a child, in front of Siri of all people, but seeing Obi-Wan, _his_ Obi-Wan, _with_ someone else, hurt more than he'd ever want to admit to anyone.

Forcing a smug smirk to his lips, he leaned in close to his friends. "Siri Tachi just got on her _knees_ for me—who wouldn't be fine after that?" He laughed at the surprised looks on their faces. "This is what I came for—and I do plan on _coming_ again," he said with a leer.

Barriss' mouth hung open, while Aayla looked at him in shocked awe. "You did not! _Siri Tachi_? Have you lost your mind? She's Obi-Wan's _ex_, honey, and you're playing with _fire_." The Twi'lek shook her head incredulously. "Now you _do_ need to get out of here, before he finds out about that, too!"

Anakin sighed and signaled the bartender for another ale. "He already knows—and he's drunk and pissed off that Siri's with _me_," he asserted arrogantly.

Smothering a snort, Aayla grabbed the ale from Anakin and took a drink. "Siri's _with _you, huh? And you think he's jealous of _you_ being with Siri?" She turned and mouthed _"Okayyyyy"_ to Barriss, who shrugged helplessly, not knowing what to say.

Anakin gave her a sullen look, lifting his chin proudly. "'Course he is. He can't have Siri and he doesn't want me to have _any _fun, especially not with her. Never mind that he was having more than enough _fun_ with _Quinlan_," he sneered, unable to keep his jealousy in check.

Barriss smiled sympathetically, laying a hand on Anakin's shoulder. "C'mon, Anakin, let's just go. You and Obi-Wan... you'll sort this all out in the morning, I'm sure. Let's stop by Dex's and pick up some ice cream, watch some movies—whatever you want to do."

Glowering, Anakin plucked Barriss' slim hand off of his shoulder, dropping it with disdain. "Are you going to tuck me into bed, too? Maybe that's good enough for _you_, Barriss, but it sure as hell doesn't replace a good fuck. You should give it a try—how long has it been, again?" he spat out unthinkingly.

Anakin immediately winced, knowing even as the words left his lips that he'd crossed the line. "Oh, Sith, Barriss. I don't know why I said that," he said apologetically, heaving out a long breath.

Barriss looked at him with hurt and angry eyes. "You know what, Anakin? Fuck you. Fuck _you_ and all your whining about Obi-Wan and how in love you are and blah blah fucking blah. If you really loved him, if you really wanted to _be_ with him, you'd go home and wait for him and grow some balls and _tell him_ how you feel!" she shouted, her hands fisting at her sides. "'_Hero With No Fear'_, my ass!"

Anakin reached for his friend, filled with remorse. "Barriss, wait. Please. I'm sorry, I—"

"Don't," she said coldly, backing out of his reach. "If you'd rather stay here with your Master Trashy, be my guest. I'm sure I'll see you in the morning, when you're at my door crying for a med patch because she gave you some Intergalactic Clap, asshole!" she yelled over her shoulder as she burst out the doors toward the lineup of taxis.

Anakin threw up his hands in frustration as he watched her leave. "_Blast_ it!"

----

"So, Kenobi, what's it gonna be? A white wine spritzer? A cola with a splash of Corellian rum? Or are you going to _really_ tie one on and have a _whole_ bottle of ale?" Quinlan needled, as he and Obi-Wan pushed and bumped their way to the last two empty stools at the far end of the bar.

Obi-Wan glared at the back of the Kiffar's dark head, only to find that the effect was completely lost. Quinlan had already taken up flirting with some newly-minted Knight, a lanky redhead who made no effort to hide her assets, if one was to assume the thin, stretched bands of fabric were meant to pass as a top and a skirt. He watched as Quinlan's hand grazed over the exposed skin of the Knight's thigh and slipped momentarily underneath the short hemline as he leaned in for a brief open-mouthed kiss that left the poor girl cross-eyed.

Obi-Wan heard needy whimpers and lewd promises before Quinlan turned back to him, a self-satisfied smirk playing across his tattooed face. "Another satisfied customer," he bragged. Throwing a thumb over his shoulder, he leaned in closer. "Did you get a look at that one?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. "She's got a friend, you know, if you wanted to..."

A look of disgust fell across Obi-Wan's face. "Oh yes, Quin, an orgy with you would be just the thing to top off this _wonderful_ evening of decadent debauchery you've subjected me to." He rolled his eyes and pretended to stroke his bearded chin thoughtfully. "I suppose I should be impressed that you can wantonly fondle a barely-of-age woman in public and leave her gaping like some kind of Mon Calamari sea creature?" he said dryly.

Quinlan roared. "Obi-Wan Kenobi at an orgy. Sith _damn_, that's something I'd pay to see." He leaned into Obi-Wan with a nudge, giving him a mischievous leer. "Bring Skywalker and I'll waive your fee, Orgy-Wan." Looking over his shoulder briefly, he added, "And I did not _fondle_ her. What kind of pervert do you think I am? I was...helping her...scratch an itch."

Obi-Wan snorted loudly, shaking his head. "Really. Is that what they are calling it now?" he asked sardonically.

"My friend, it is high time you go home and get _your_ itch scratched. All over. Many times. I'm sure your apprentice can apply the right...cream...to all the places that itch and _burn_," Quinlan teased with an exaggerated wink, handing his friend an ale and taking a long sip from his Jedi Boot Licker.

Flabbergasted, Obi-Wan waved his bottle at his friend, his mouth opening and closing several times as he searched for a comeback. "I...I...for the love of the _Force_, Quinlan, you are the most uncouth thing I've ever encountered." Turning away from his friend, he faced the bar and took a long drink. "Scratching an itch...cream...burn..._fucking Sith_," he murmured under his breath.

"Come on, I bet if you asked him, Boy Toy would love to run home and play '_Horny Healer'_ with you. Bacta has a lot of uses, you know..." Quin said, nudging into his shoulder.

Obi-Wan hung his head, shaking it slightly before looking back at his friend. "Such fantasies you have—really Quinlan, I underestimated your creativity. Your true skills are hopelessly underutilized by the Order, aren't they?"

Quinlan shook with laughter. "Oh, Kenobi, you're just so..._easy_! It's no wonder the kid loves to yank your chain. I bet," he said, lips quirking up mischievously, "that he'd like to yank more than just your chain.

"Oh, go yank yourself!" Obi-Wan huffed, standing abruptly and swaying a bit, trying his best to offer a polite smile to his longtime friend. "Good luck tonight with Aayla—I do hope your juvenile parlor games are a _rousing_ success. I don't suppose I could persuade you to _not _kiss and tell, could I?" He snorted at the wicked look on Quin's face. "I didn't think so." Obi-Wan held up his hand, waving it slightly. "Just...please? No lekku. I don't want to know."

"But that'll be the best part!" Quinlan whined. He stood and clapped Obi-Wan on the shoulder. "Listen, go home, put on your fuzzy slippers and that ugly-assed thing you call a robe, and meditate or whatever the fuck it is you do to relax—since I won't be available for an emergency fuck for at least a couple of hours—and figure out how it is you're going to tell Skywalker how you really feel. If you don't want to do it for yourself, and the fact that you'll have that hot piece of ass in your bed every night, do it for your old pal Quinny, would you? Hell, do it for _all_ of us!"

Obi-Wan shot a lethal glare up at him. "Ah, there it is. That giving, caring, selfless side of Quinlan Vos." Obi-Wan knew he wasn't being fair; it wasn't Quin's fault that he had stupidly fallen in love with his own Padawan, pushed Anakin into the arms of his ex-lover and a Sith-begotten Senator, and made a complete ass out of himself in front of most of the Order. _Oh no, Kenobi, you've brought that art form to an entirely new level all on your own. _

Obi-Wan shook his head and sighed. "Forgive me, Quin. I'm drunk and seem to be a glutton for self-pitying monologues and scathing sarcasm tonight. I'm going to go home now, finish that bottle of wine we opened, and if the Force is done pissing on me this evening, I'll pass out soundly," he said, giving his old friend a wan smile. "Better still would be to suffer some kind brain trauma that would rid me of the memory of this Force-forsaken night."

Quin's comm suddenly chimed, making his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Huh. This thing's not gone off all night." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he patted down his pockets for the device. "I told them only to buzz me about three things—the arrival of a Sith Lord, Kit Fisto, or any kind of action they think I might want in on. Force, let it _not _be Fisto..." he mumbled, putting an ear to his comm.

As Quin conversed with his security team, Obi-Wan held his drink up, checking the level of ale remaining and frowning when he realized he still had half a bottle to go. Bringing it to his lips, he tipped back the bottle, only to have the crowd around him surge toward the center of the long bar. The sudden jostling knocked him off-balance and forced him to miss his lips entirely, emptying a good amount down the front of his shirt and turning it a dark green.

"_Bloody hell,"_ Obi-Wan swore, glaring at the Gran and Devaronian who offered lame apologies before continuing on their way with a bleat and a feral snarl. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Quin pointing at him, lewdly imitating the act of removing his shirt and nodding enthusiastically. Obi-Wan scowled with disgust, making the Kiffar shake with silent laughter. "Oh, sure, I'll just cap off the night with a striptease for my colleagues,"he fumed, wiping furiously at the darkening stain.

"They're doing _what?_" Obi-Wan's head jerked up when Quin jumped off the barstool and turned away from him, craning his neck to peer over the crowd. "No! No, really? _Really? _Oh hell, yeah, I'll be right there!" Quin yelled excitedly into the comm, clicking it off before shoving it back into his pocket.

Obi-Wan clutched at his friend's shoulder, trying to get his attention. "What? What is it?" Not for the first time in the course of their friendship, Obi-Wan cursed his lack of height as well as the Kiffar's preponderance of it, stretching up in vain to try to follow Quinlan's line of sight. "Trouble?"

_I've got to give it to the kid...he sure knows how to have a good time,_ Quin had to grudgingly concede to himself. _But Sith hell, I've got to get Kenobi out of here before he gets wind of this—otherwise I'll end up being his fucking Soul Healer for the next five years. _With the barest hint of hesitation, he turned and flashed an exaggerated smile, his dark dreadlocks swinging out behind him.

"Uh...nah," Quin said evasively, taking a last swig of his drink. "Nothing I can't handle." He pulled Obi-Wan into an impulsive hug, pressing a loud, sloppy kiss to his cheek. "Why don't you go on—I'm...I'm not sure how long this'll take, and I don't want to keep you from your robe. Maybe your, uh, your boy can help you out of that wet shirt," he joked, continuing to look over the party-goers anxiously.

"I'm quite certain I can manage to disrobe on my own, thank you very much," Obi-Wan said as he watched his old friend curiously—usually he was the one begging off from getting involved in one of Quin's _adventures, _not the other way around _He's probably had enough of me for one night—I've been horrid company and a wretched friend._ "Are you sure? I know I was about to leave, but Quinlan, I'm your friend, and if you need help, I could stay..." he offered earnestly, placing a hand on Quin's forearm.

Quin shook his head vigorously, the briefest look of alarm passing over his face. "Nah, you, uh, you go home and, uh, wait for your boy—I'm sure it will all work out in the morning and you two will be all lovey-dovey and happily-ever-after and stuff," he finished quickly. Clapping his friend on the shoulder one more time, he oriented Obi-Wan in the direction of the doors. Shouting over the crowd, he started to walk away backwards, waving his comm at Obi-Wan. "Call me—I want to know _everything_! Gotta go—time for ol' Quinny to play hero!"

"Force help us all," Obi-Wan snorted derisively, toasting the air before swallowing the last of his drink.

Instead of looking forward to the solitude of his room or the mercy of sleep, only one thought crossed his mind, the one thought he'd come to this abominably humiliating Knights Out to rid himself of.

_Anakin._

_Anakin, Anakin, Anakin..._

_----  
_

"Well." Aayla crossed her arms, pursed her lips, and glared up at Anakin with a look of disapproval that could rival any that Anakin had ever had the benefit of receiving from Mace Windu. "What the _hell_ is wrong with you? First you kiss Barriss, then you insult her, and now you're off fucking around with Siri Tachi, all because Obi-Wan is here with Quinny?"

Anakin crossed his arms defensively against his chest and scowled at Aayla, not wanting to admit, even to himself, that she was right. "_No_,that has nothing to do with it! And there's nothing wrong with me—I'm having...I'm having _fun_, Aayla."

"Really? That's great. Because. I'm. Not. _Anakin!_" Aayla enunciated carefully, each word intensifying in volume until his name came out in a high-pitched squawk. Squaring her petite frame up to his, she waved her hand angrily in his face. "I've spent the night cleaning up after you, and why is that again? Oh yeah, because you're _in love_ with _Obi-Wan_ and don't know what to do about it. Well, listen, dumbass. _Go tell him._ Go find him, take him home, and tell him. _Please!_" she yelled, her lekku twitching with her frustration.

Anakin flinched back from her hand, wondering how he'd ever be able to tell Obi-Wan how he felt. _Oh sure, I'll just stroll into our quarters and say "Master, I'm in love with you and I think we should fuck." No, wait, it should sound more mature, like "I think we should consummate our relationship, Master." Yes, pretentious and intellectual, like Obi-Wan. He wouldn't say 'fuck'. Oh, Force, what if he did, with that fucking accent, all dirty and proper at the same time? "Anakin, let's fuck. Fuck me hard, Anakin. Harder, harder..." _Anakin nearly lost his balance, imagining all the things an _improper_ Obi-Wan could whisper in his ear.

Groaning with frustration, he gave himself a hard shake to clear his mind. _As if Obi-Wan is ever improper—he'd give me that look, with the fucking raised eyebrow, and feed me some line about how it would be "inappropriate and entirely unbecoming for a Jedi Master to engage in such an endeavor." With _me_, anyway. He doesn't seem to have any problems _engaging_ in anything with Master Vos._

Anakin waved over the bartender, nodding his thanks when he was handed another bottle. "Like that would go over well—come on! I am _not _going totell him, Aayla." He slid his fingers thoughtfully across the bar top, looking away. "Besides, he'd _never_ take me seriously. Compared to Master Vos, I'm just a kid," he mumbled petulantly, avoiding Aayla's eyes.

Aayla threw back her head and let out a peal of laughter that made Anakin turn around in surprise. "_Right_, because Quinny's the poster-boy for Jedi maturity?" Aayla reached up and ran her small hands down the form-fitting fabric clinging to his shoulders, squeezing affectionately. "While you don't always act like it—tonight being Exhibit A in _that_ regard," she teased, smirking at Anakin's scowl, "no one could mistake you for a kid—you sure as fuck weren't one in the 'fresher last year." Leaning over, Aayla whispered in his ear. "You've got a talent that I'm _sure_ your Master will, uh, _come_ to appreciate, Sexy." She pecked his cheek and sat back with a wink. "Ferus even told me you were the best he's ever had."

Anakin let out a choked laugh, pointing at her with the top of the bottle. "Ferus—_haja_, don't even remind me." His lips curled up playfully and he winked at the Twi'lek. "What about you, Aayla? Was I the best _you_ ever had?" he propositioned, nodding in the direction of the 'freshers. "Are you up for a repeat performance?"

Aayla licked her lips, pretending to consider. "_Please_—you're so hung up on Obi-Wan, you'd be thinking about his hair, or the feel of his beard on your..._whatever_...and not focusing on _me_," she said with a disgusted pout. _"_I have no intention of being Obi-Wan Kenobi's body double, not even for you, Anakin." She ran her hands over her lekku, jutting her hip out provocatively. "If you haven't noticed, I have a few more bells and whistles than your Master."

Anakin coughed loudly, almost spilling his drink. "Who could miss them!" he grinned in agreement. Tapping his toe to the heavy beat of the music, he watched his friend's flirtatious eye-fucking with some purple-furred Bothan down the bar. No, he thought with a chuckle, he had to agree there was no one like Aayla. But to Anakin, there would never be anyone _but_ Obi-Wan. He didn't need bells and whistles. He was _Obi-Wan_.

_Obi-Wan._ Despite his best efforts to the contrary, including several ales and more shots than he could recall, Anakin still could not vanquish the searing image of his Master pulling Vos into that heated kiss right in front of him. Releasing a pent-up breath, Anakin fought to subdue the sickening lurch of his stomach. It was more than not wanting his Master touching Quinlan Vos, he knew. _Anakin_ desperately wanted to be the one, _the only one_, that Obi-Wan touched that way. _Ever._ That he had absolutely no say in the matter only fueled the jealous, angry hurt that thus far no amount of alcohol _or _fucking around seemed to be able to temper tonight.

Feigning disinterest, he furtively scanned the room for any sign of Obi-Wan or Vos, studying the odd pairs of beings passing by, bodies pressed against each other intimately and knowingly, either on their way to or fresh from a clandestine hookup or a public grope, he couldn't be sure. _I'm not looking for Obi-Wan. I'm not. Okay, I am. Blast—they're probably off in some corner. Or a 'fresher? Is Obi-Wan the 'fresher type? Fuck, you're doing it again! Stop thinking about him. Them. Focus. Focus. You're flirting with Aayla and you're with...Siri. _Siri!_ I forgot about Siri. Fucking Obi-Wan, fucking Vos! Fucking Obi-Wan fucking fucking Vos!_

Blowing out a frustrated breath, Anakin leaned back and looked down the length of the bar both ways, catching no sight of the blonde, who had gone off in search of _'something special' _for the two of them. "Hey, you know, it doesn't seem to bother Siri," he said insolently, drawing his lower lip out into a pout.

The bartender handed Aayla a gaseous drink the exact shade of her lavender outfit, and she mouthed a slow and seductive _"thank you"_ to her benefactor down the bar. Giving Anakin a bored look, she waved her hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, good for you. You can now claim that honor, along with half the Jedi Order, _including_ your Master," she said, poking him in the chest.

After taking a sniff of the beverage and finding the exotic aroma pleasing, she gestured unsteadily at Anakin with it. "Listen. _Anakin_. I know how you must have felt seeing Obi-Wan and Quinny carrying on like two rutting banthas—even for me, it was...definitely a sight. If you want Obi-Wan to take you seriously, throwing _Siri_ in his face sure as hell isn't going to help your case—I mean really, screwing around with his_ ex?_" She shook her head regretfully and took a tentative sip, licking her lips in satisfaction at the potent mix of liquids. "You should run while you still have your cock intact, honey."

"Knight Secura, I see you learned your manners from your Master." Coming up behind them, Siri placed a tray of drinks on the bar and sidled up to Anakin. "I suppose that's all one could expect from a Padawan of Quinlan Vos," she intoned with a polite sarcasm, offering Aayla a frosty smile. "Not that I owe you any sort of explanation, but Obi-Wan and I were over long ago, and Anakin and I are getting better _acquainted_ this evening." She stroked a red nail under Anakin's chin, turning his face toward hers. "Aren't we, baby?"

Anakin nodded and wrapped a possessive arm around Siri's waist, determined to prove to Aayla, and himself, that this was exactly what he wanted tonight. He nuzzled his chin into Siri's palm as he pulled her closer. "Yeah...having fun, getting to know each other and...stuff. I was just telling Aayla how I'm _not ready to leave_," he said emphatically, giving his friend a very pointed look.

Aayla choked on her drink, ignoring Anakin completely. "Oh, I see. Well, the next time I read a mission report of yours, Master Tachi, I'll be sure to interpret _'getting acquainted with the local population'_ as _'providing blow jobs in dark corners,'_ then," she said innocently, taking a dainty sip from her cocktail.

Siri's eyes narrowed and she slid out of Anakin's hold, tossing her hair back confidently as she sauntered up to Aayla. "I'd back _off_, little one, if I were you," she seethed, deliberately looking Aayla over head to toe with contempt. "Given your...genetic _proclivities_, perhaps you should consider returning to Ryloth. I mean, just _look _at you this evening—it appears you would be far better suited to the life of a more _traditional_ Twi'lek female, you must agree. I'm sure you have several lucrative _talents_ not needed by the Jedi, darling."

Aayla held her chin high and patted a seemingly conciliatory hand on Siri's arm, the saccharine sweetness of her voice belying the venom in her words. "Oh, you wish you had even _half _of what I do, honey. I could dance in every Hutt palace from here to Tatooine and I'd still come out cleaner than your skanky ass."

Behind Siri, Anakin cleared his throat and turned towards the bar, smothering a nervous giggle into his fist. There was no _way _he was taking sides in _that—_not if he had any hope of having a good time tonight _and_ a friend in the morning. Sighing, he placed his elbow on the bar, chin in his hand, trying to imagine both women dancing—no, pole dancing—in some dingy dive in the Outer Rim.

Through the din of the club, he heard Aayla fire off another sharp retort, followed by Siri's icy, smooth comeback. Anakin shook his head and laughed ruefully, taking a shot off of the tray Siri had brought over and tossing back the creamy liquor. As he lapped at the corner of his mouth where a little drop had lingered, he felt his stomach tighten when his vision morphed into a glittery Obi-Wan in various states of undress, gyrating suggestively in a private show in their quarters, lit only by the glow of Coruscant's night sky. Anakin moaned quietly, shifting in his seat as he tried to ease the sudden tight discomfort of his pants. A fierce blush spread hot across his cheeks and he raked his fingers down his thighs, gripping at his knees for support.

Siri glared at Aayla one more time, then gestured back towards Anakin. "Darling, I already have plenty more than you do, so it seems. You were here with _whom_, again? Funny, I do believe Kit is off-planet and Quinlan, well..." Leaning in, she lowered her voice conspiratorially. "We all know who he's with tonight, don't we? Best not to bring that up, wouldn't you agree?" she said with a wink, pressing a finger facetiously over her red lips.

Aayla rolled her eyes once more but reluctantly nodded in agreement before rejoining Anakin at the bar. "Whore thinks she's all that. _Whatever..._" she muttered, nudging Anakin.

"What?" Anakin said distractedly, his mind enjoying Stripper-Wan unbuttoning his trousers and sashaying toward the bedroom, beckoning for Anakin to follow.

Mildly annoyed, Aayla yanked hard on his braid a couple of times to get his attention. "Hey!"

Reluctantly forced out of his reverie, Anakin pouted drunkenly. "Hey, hands _off _the braid," he complained as he bumped against her shoulder. "Missing yours? How 'bout we trade—you be the Padawan and I'll be the Knight? I should be a Knight, anyway," he groused, looking down at his braid scornfully.

Aayla snorted and yanked it again. "Oh, I _don't_ think so—sounds way too much like a game for you and your Master to play, and I already told you, I'm _not _being your Obi-Wan. And quit it with the whining about Knighthood already—fuck knows you'll be a Knight soon enough, and Force help us all then."

Anakin lowered his eyes at the mention of his Master. _Why can't I just have _one _night without thinking about him? I'm at Knights Out, with my friends—fuck, I'm with Siri Tachi—and I can't stop wondering where he is, what he's doing, or worse, who the fuck he's with?_ _This is _my _night, and I'm going to have a Knights Out I'll never forget, Obi-Wan be damned. Starting _now.

Aayla glanced over her shoulder at Siri, who was cavorting with a couple of star-struck and painfully young Padawans, a repugnant frown turning down the corners of her blue mouth before meeting the rim of her glass. "Honey, you sure you really want to stay?" she asked with concern, noticing the flicker of sadness in Anakin's eyes when he looked down.

Anakin bobbed his head and grabbed two shots off the tray, smiling confidently as he handed one over to his friend. "Oh, yeah, Aayla. Definitely stayin'. C'mon, drink with me! You said you wanted to have some fun, so let's have some fun!" He clumsily clinked his glass against Aayla's, then downed the shot, laughing when some of the liquid dribbled down his chin. "Wha's in these, anyway?" he asked, swiping at his chin with the back of his hand.

Siri smiled politely at the young Padawans fawning over her, watching Anakin out of the corner of her eye, a cheshire smile crossing her lips. _So much potential in your...package, kitten, and dear stupid Obi-Wan doesn't even have a clue what he's missing. I'll be sure to let him know just what he's been denying himself. Once I'm done with you, of course._

Aayla downed her glass and ran her tongue over her lips. "Mmm...Alderaanian chocolate creme liqueur, I think. Expensive stuff," she acknowledged, nodding appreciatively back at Siri. "Obviously _you_ didn't pick this out, Baby-Kin."

Siri moved up behind Anakin, pressing against his back as her warm breath tickled against his ear. "You have discerning tastes, Aayla. It's a bit high-priced, I admit, but I like how it just _slides_ down my throat, don't you?" she asked the pair, stealing a lingering glance at Aayla as she slid a finger over Anakin's lips and down the column of his throat.

"Mmm-hmm," Anakin agreed, reaching for another, but Siri stilled his arm and turned him around. Standing between his spread thighs, she ran her hands up the insides of the black leather. "Baby, I think it's time for us to have some more fun."

Anakin groaned, his legs squeezing against Siri reflexively from the subtle brush against crotch. Pressing herself against his muscled thigh, Siri leaned over and poured out a lucid amber liquid into a row of glasses and set a spice shaker and a bowl of tiny wedges of a tart pink Ithorian fruit next to them.

Turning back to Anakin, Siri gave him a sultry look as her hands slid back over his thighs and down to the lowest button on her white, translucent blouse. Gulping, Anakin couldn't help but stare as she slowly undid one button, then another, and another until she reached the lower swell of her full breasts. "There, now we're just about set, darling. Help me up?" she asked softly, wrapping her arms across his shoulders.

Anakin lifted her easily, biting his lip as she swung her thigh-high boots up onto the bar Siri leaned back on one elbow and swirled a finger in one of the glasses before bringing it to her lips, sucking it in slowly. Reaching for Anakin, she pulled him close and dunked it again, this time brushing it against his lips. "Ever done this, Anakin? I somehow doubt that this is included in Obi-Wan's regular lesson plans," she said teasingly, her tongue coyly tasting his lips.

Anakin swallowed hard, unable to imagine any kind of training that would have involved a half-naked Jedi Master on a bar top. An errant image of Obi-Wan, tunics loosened and hair mussed, spread out across a beach-side lounger, flitted across his subconsciousness, only to be ruthlessly suppressed when Siri spread open her blouse, baring her tanned abdomen before she lay back on the bar, fanning her hair out around her. Looking at Siri, the shots, and the fruit, Anakin let out a nervous laugh. W_hat the hell is the spice used for? Don't blow this...don't look like an idiot...think... _"Of course I have, I, uh..."

Heaving an annoyed sigh, Aayla roughly pushed him aside. "For fucking Force's _sake_, you're all talk out of that pretty mouth, aren't you? Watch and learn, _Padawan_," she said authoritatively. Taking a piece of the fruit, she held it out wordlessly to Siri, raising a questioning eyebrow. Siri gave her a dubious look but assented, lifting her chin to nip the fruit out of Aayla's fingers. Aayla looked around, making sure she had a captive audience, and then to Anakin's surprise, nimbly vaulted up to straddle Siri's waist, rocking her hips slowly as she took her time settling herself across the other woman's body.

With a wicked smile to the crowd, the Twi'lek swept her lekku to the side, restraining them with one hand, and leaned forward, letting her tongue trace a line from the top of Siri's navel to just under the edge of her blouse. Blowing lightly over the wet skin, Aayla locked eyes with Siri, smiling victoriously when Siri writhed beneath her. Pulling back, she reached for the spice and shook it over the moistened trail, and licking again, slowly, Aayla turned her head and winked when her eyes met Anakin's.

_Stars' end, _Anakin thought, a shock racing down to his groin as he watched Aayla slide her tongue, hell, her whole damn body, over Siri's. It was like watching every adolescent Padawan's fantasy play out right in front of his eyes, he thought smugly, until he started instead to imagine Obi-Wan spread out across the bar, willingly prostituting himself for personal pleasure, as hands, tongues, and various other appendages pillaged his body, skimming over his chest, following the trail of fine hair down to his..._Stop!_ Anakin admonished himself angrily. _The girls, watch the fucking girls, dumbass! What is _wrong _with me? _As Aayla reached for a shot glass, Anakin took one as well, downing it quickly and hissing at the bitter aftertaste.

Arching her head back, Aayla downed the shot effortlessly. She then balanced her body above Siri's, slowly lowering herself to capture Siri's mouth in her own, sucking lightly for a long moment before sitting back, licking her lips clean of the juice from the fruit.

"_That's _how you do it," she said with a self-satisfied smirk, petting Siri's stomach softly before lithely hopping down. "Your turn, Sexy-Kin—show us what a good little Padawan Learner you really are," she said mockingly, offering the shaker to Anakin.

Siri sat up on her elbows, smiling at Aayla before crooking a long finger his way. "Yes, baby, it's your turn to have some fun," she purred with an inviting smile.

_Damn right it's my turn to have some fun, _Anakin thought bitterly, recalling Obi-Wan's bold proclamation,_ 'I'm here, and I'm having fun, and Quinlan is my date, I'll have you know, and we are…we are having fun!',_ and his subsequent face-sucking with Master Vos. _Oh, I'll show you who's having fun, Master! _

Anakin brushed past Aayla. "I have a better idea," he declared as he cavalierly swaggered over to Siri. _Oh, there's no way Obi-Wan would ever do this._ Clutching Siri's waist, he pulled her up and lifted her off the bar to a chorus of disappointed groans from the onlookers. _But I would. _

"Baby, what's wrong? We were just getting started," Siri cooed with a puzzled frown as she fingered his braid, trying to pull him back toward the bar. Admittedly, she had thoroughly enjoyed the Twi'lek's _demonstration_—far more than she really should have—but in order to hit Obi-Wan where it would really hurt, she needed to create a very public spectacle with his precious Anakin. Word would eventually circulate back to Master Kenobi that his apprentice had been engaging in conduct completely unbecoming for a Padawan with a Master of such high moral standing as Obi-Wan Kenobi. _His bloated ego won't be able to stand it—both his heart and his reputation cut to ribbons in one delicious, _very_ delicious, moment. I just hope I can see his face._

"Nothin's wrong," he slurred, sloshing alcohol everywhere as he refilled the emptied shot glasses. Returning to Siri, Anakin's lips curled up at the edges as he watched his fingers skate across the exposed skin of her stomach. "Like Aayla said, it's my turn," he said flippantly, lifting Siri's hair off her neck to nuzzle against her ear. "So, I. Want. A. Turn."

Siri gasped softly when Anakin nibbled and licked at her ear unexpectedly. "Of-of course you can have a turn, baby. What-whatever you want," she agreed, the words hitching as Anakin's tongue found a sensitive spot on her neck.

Aayla laughed loudly, slamming the shaker down on the bar. "Sexy, you're so drunk, you don't even know what you're saying."

"'M not," Anakin insisted, pulling out of Siri's arms. Backing up to the bar, he yanked his shirt out of his pants and pulled the tight blue material up over his head, a cocky smile lighting up his face at the various hoots, whistles and catcalls from the surrounding crowd. "Come on, it'll be _fun_. I'll even let you take a turn, Aayla," he sing-songed with an arrogant smirk.

"You wish, honey Anakin Skywalker, you know he's going to kill you!" Aayla warned, shaking her head as she caught Anakin's tossed shirt.

Anakin let out an exasperated grunt. "Who? Obi-Wan? My Master's too busy _having fun _with _your_ Master, and either way, _I don't care_. I'm Anakin _fucking _Skywalker, I'm twenty-one, and _this_ is Knights Out," he proclaimed audaciously. "I plan on making the most out of it!" _And I don't care what you think, Obi-Wan. I don't. Much._

Jumping up on the bar, he leaned on his elbows and arched his head back, inciting a roar of cheers from the onlookers that had begun to gather around him. "Who's first?" Anakin called out, pointing at the stool next to him. "Line forms here!"

Siri smiled at Anakin, a predatory gleam in her eye as she realized, with a delighted satisfaction, that her evening's plaything had graciously decided to hang himself with his own rope. "Well, now, Anakin _fucking_ Skywalker, I'd be more than happy to be your first," she announced with a suggestive drawl as she sauntered up to the bar in an all-out strut, playing it up for the benefit of the crowd. _If they want a show, I'll give them a show they'll never stop talking about._

Kneelingup on the barstool, Siri palmed her hand possessively over the chiseled muscles of Anakin's chest. "Oh, baby, we're going to have so much fun, aren't we," she crooned, reaching up to drag her forefinger over Anakin's parted lips before placing a fruit wedge in his mouth. _Make no mistake, kitten, Obi-Wan is very much going to care._

_----  
_

"I'm sorry, sir, but another taxi won't be around for at least another twenty minutes," the irritatingly polite service droid informed a dismayed Obi-Wan. "Apparently the lanes near 500 Republica are blocked off at the order of an inbound Senator, and all traffic is being rerouted."

"Of _course_ it is," Obi-Wan fumed, impatiently brushing the hair that the breeze had blown in his eyes back off his face, imagining just _which_ Senator would have the audacity to alter traffic patterns as a personal preference. _One who's vain enough to not want one of her atrociously overdone coiffures tossed about by passing traffic, that's who._ He sighed and glanced down at his chrono in resignation. "Just add me to the queue for the next available taxi, then. Oh, and do be sure to put it on Master Vos' tab, would you?" he added through gritted teeth before withdrawing from the taxi stand.

Obi-Wan approached the doors of the Outlander and peered through the glass, watching the mass of party-goers engaged in the typical Knights Out behaviors the evening had become so infamous for. His eyes darted through the crowd, unconsciously searching for any tall blondes draped shamelessly against any even taller Padawans in body-hugging blue shirts and signature black leather pants. _ He's in there somewhere, undoubtedly having a gloriously hedonistic evening with Siri, whereas I'm skulking off to drink myself into oblivion before passing out in an empty bed. Pathetic._

Obi-Wan pushed through the doors, recoiling when the steamy, cloying air rushed over him as it made its escape into the cool Coruscanti night. _I knew I should have stayed home—obviously I need to reconsider this arrangement with Quinlan if all it takes is a quick and dirty fuck against my windows to so easily coerce me into attending this juvenile soirée and ending up drunk and alone. I could do that just as easily in my quarters, with significantly less humiliation. It's Knights Out—who ends up alone after Knights Out? _He laughed mirthlessly. _I do._

Wrinkling up his nose at the sweaty odor of the passing Sullustan sliding uncomfortably close to him, Obi-Wan looked off in the direction he'd seen Quin go. Even through his alcohol-infused haze, he knew Quinlan probably _had _needed his help, but Quin had let him leave anyway. Obi-Wan felt a twinge of guilt, knowing that for all his crude and banal antics, Quinlan Vos was one of his oldest and dearest friends. A loud cheer erupted from somewhere near the middle of the bar, making him shake his head and exhale sharply.

"I'm on my way, Quinlan, to help you out of whatever disaster you've undoubtedly fallen into," he muttered, heading into the throng once more.

----

Quinlan nodded as he listened to the comm pressed against his ear. "Yeah, I'm here now. No, I don't see—wait, never mind. Fuck yeah, I want you to keep a look out for the Nautolan! That's what I'm paying you for!" he yelled, clicking it off and shoving it back into his pocket.

Walking up behind Aayla, he tilted his head forward, allowing his dreadlocks to fall against her lekku and tickle the sensitive appendages. "What's going on, sweetheart?" he asked, gently grazing the rough stubble of his chin against her cheek while he folded his fingers over her upper arms to embrace her. "I got a report—something about you and Tachi engaged in a little girl-on-girl action? _Tell me_ I didn't miss that?" Quin begged, looking around for the leggy blonde Jedi Master.

Aayla sank back into his arms, briefly enjoying the feel of Quinlan's strong body against her back, before smacking his hands away and ducking out of his hold. "Save your wet dreams for another time, big boy—show's over. You snooze, you _lose_," she replied with a lofty snicker, looking down to pick over her nails and swirl the remainder of her drink.

Quin cocked his eyebrow, dipping his head just enough to catch Aayla's eye. "Is that so? Well, sweetheart, you'll just have to show me later, won't you?" he quipped, laughing again when the Twi'lek tossed her lekku indignantly.

"_Maybe._ If nothing better comes along, I suppose you'll just have to do..." she threw back at him, fighting to keep the smile from her lips. "And just where is your..._date_, Quinny?" She leaned to the left and right, making as show of looking around her former Master's imposing stature. "As I recall, weren't you and Obi-Wan _'having fun'_?"

Quin coughed and cleared his throat, pushing his dreadlocks behind his shoulders. "Yeah, well, I sent him home when I got the call about Tachi whoring herself on the bar—the whole thing had Skywalker's stink all over it. Speaking of, just where is Chosen Boy, anyway?"

Aayla snorted, inclining her head towards the bar. "Shit-faced and all _'I'm Anakin Skywalker, I can do whatever I want, I'm hot shit,'_ blah blah fucking blah," she mimicked in her high nasal voice. "Just look for yourself." Huffing, she folded her arms across her chest and glared at her former Master. "This is all your fault, Quinny—you and this stupid game you're playing with Obi-Wan. Sexy should be home with Obi-Wan sharing deeply disgusting professions of everlasting love—which is actually very sweet, for _them_ anyway—not being the Order's rent boy for the night!"

Quinlan let out a low chuckle, scratching at his head incredulously. "_Damn,_ that kid, I swear...if Kenobi hadn't declared him a no-fly zone... _Hey_, hold on there!" He swung back around to face Aayla. "_My _fault? Hey, _none _of this was my idea," he cried defensively, holding up his hands. "I was just playing along—how was I to know she'd go after his boy? Besides, _Skywalker's_ the one who chose to play _rent boy_ over there on the bar with Tachi's tongue all over him. Not that I can blame him," he added salaciously, craning his neck to get another view. "Oh hell, not that can I blame _her,_" he murmured to himself.

Aayla hit him again. "Quinlan Vos! Obi-Wan is your friend—I know even _you_ respect that. He'd slice and dice your ass if you touched Anakin, and you know it."

"Ow! Hey, take it easy, would you? I already got the yellow-eyed lecture from Sithy-Wan earlier, thanks." He gave Aayla a rakish once-over and nodded towards the bar. "So, what's it worth to you if I got Skywalker's pretty little ass out of here? A little motivation goes a long way, sweetheart."

Aayla tossed her head, unimpressed. "_Anyone _could simply pull the fire sensor and clear the place—where's the challenge in that for _Quinlan Vos?_" She twirled a couple of his dreadlocks around her finger playfully. "Now, should you actually get those two nerf herders _together—_and by together, I mean hot Jedi loving that no longer involves you,Siri, or any other third party unless requested by them, at which point I'd insist I get to watch—I'd be inclined to give you just about anything you want, Quinny." Grabbing two handfuls of Quin's coarse hair, she roughly yanked him down to her eye level. "And no one knows better than your Padawan what you want, _do_ they?"

Quin gave her a lecherous, lopsided grin. "Now there's an offer I can't refuse. Just let ol' Quinny take care of everything, and then _you_ can take care of Quinny," he winked, brushing his lips over hers softly. He ran a hand over the crown of her lekku before prying her hands from his dreadlocks and holding her at arms' length. "Obi-Wan finally gets his boy, you get me, and I get whatever I want. It's a win-win situation all around!"_  
_

Aayla's eyes widened in surprise as she looked just beyond Quinlan's shoulder, catching sight of Mace Windu"You think so, honey? We'll see who comes out _on top_. The deal's only good for tonight, so you better make it fast." She gestured gleefully in Mace's direction. "Who's that over there, talking with Windu? Oh _my_, that isn't...oh now, it couldn't be..."

"Who?" Quin whipped his head around and let out an aggravated groan. _"_Aw, come _on_. Kenobi, what are you doing here?" he muttered, turning back to face Aayla. "Not a problem. Really," he postured, undaunted. This was an opportunity with Aayla that he wasn't going to pass up, and whether he knew it or not, Obi-Wan was about to help him.

"I thought you said he went home?" Aayla asked with mock sincerity. "Good luck, Quinny. You're _so _going to need it," she chortled, trailing her hand down the length of his arm as she strolled past him on her way to the bar. "I'll be waiting."

Quin watched the sway of Aayla's hips with a plaintive whimper before setting his sights on Anakin. _Obi-Wan, my old friend, this is going to be for your own good, trust me. Won't be too bad for me, either,_ he chuckled to himself, slinking away into the crowd to make good on his deal with Aayla.


	5. Circus

**Time to go back to the Outlander! A very, very special thanks (that's not even the word for it) to my co-writer for these final two chapters, snootiegirl99, without whom, none of this would have happened. _Seriously. _Thank you SO MUCH for finding Quinlan for me and bringing him back where he belongs. 3**

Disclaimer: Only Knights Out belongs to me. Everything else belongs to GL & Disney. The song, '_Circus' _belongs to Britney Spears.

_**There's only two types of people in the world, the ones that entertain, and the ones that observe...I'm like the ringleader, I call the shots...I'm like a firecracker, I make it hot when I put on a show...All the eyes on me in the center of the ring, just like a circus...** _

_~ 'Circus', Britney Spears _

Having regrettably come into far too close contact with the sweaty, sticky, and/or slimy appendages of his Jedi brethren, Obi-Wan's brow furrowed as he finally caught sight of Quinlan, only to have the Kiffar disappear into the bobbing throng of party-goers continuing to push their way towards whatever disturbance his friend had been dispatched to resolve. _It would be so much easier if we could use the Force in this Sith-forsaken place. Quin projects his lust almost as loudly as Anakin does his petulance._ Obi-Wan frowned deeper. _I am not thinking about Anakin and his petulance. Or the way his lip pouts. Or what it must taste like. _Distracted completely by the idea of running his tongue across his Padawan's jutting lower lip, Obi-Wan barreled right into what he belatedly recognized as some kind of queue for bar service.

A tray of slender tubes filled with a deep metallic green liquor launched dangerously into the air, quickly snatched by a dark hand that slapped them back to the tray angrily. "Hey, watch it, motherfucker! Don't make me kick your sorry drunken ass."

Mortified, Obi-Wan's hands flailed helplessly at the tray, nearly upending the beverages once more. "Oh, I am sorry, I_—blast!_" Cursing Anakin, Anakin's lips, and any further ruminations about the flavor of said flesh for his oafish blundering, he started to offer further apologies, praying that that the Force might finally be on his side and he'd be able to slip away without further incident. Lowering his useless hands, Obi-Wan glanced up into the narrowed eyes of Mace Windu and sighed resignedly. _So...still not on my side. _"Oh. Um...hello."

"Hey, Kenobi? You're still here?" Mace gawked, his threatening glower replaced by puzzled surprise. "I can't believe you've even lasted this long. Did you make nice with Tachi? Hell, for that, I'd beg, bark, and roll over!" he chortled with a hard clap of camaraderie to Obi-Wan's back, forcing Obi-Wan to stagger forward with a startled grunt. "Or did you finally go running to Skywalker and confess your everlasting love? What you see in that boy, well, other than the obvious, I'll never know."

_And you had better never. _The bitter thought was so immediate, it brought Obi-Wan up short. Padmé, Siri, Quinlan, and now _Mace_? Was he seriously _threatened _by Mace? _Well, it _is _Knights Out, and stranger things have happened... _He had learned long ago not to underestimate in any way the twisted humor of the Force when it came to humiliating and humbling her servant Jedi. He only had to look at how his evening had progressed thus far; a fight with Anakin, a quick and desperate indiscretion with Quin, the infuriating sight of Siri seducing his very willing Padawan, _another _fight with Anakin, and _dancing_. He'd been dancing. With Quinlan! Oh, yes, he most certainly had become the Force's plaything, and she was having a _grand _time this night.

Obi-Wan was dismayed at how out of control his behavior—his _life—_had become. It would be far too easy to blame the Force, or Quinlan—well, a lot of this evening was _definitely_ his fault, first and foremost dragging him here, second for being such a good friend that Obi-Wan had felt obliged to stay and help him out—but Obi-Wan was the one with the tragically preposterous unrequited love for his own Padawan. He might be the Master, but he had no right to make claims on Anakin, no authority to engage a security perimeter around his Padawan or growl menacingly at potential rivals like some kind of territorial pack beast. _Really, this is what I've become? A slobbering vornskr? Wonderful._

Obi-Wan swayed and checked his balance, managing a half-hearted smile and deferential dip of his head—he might be a drooling canine, but he would be a drooling canine with _manners_. "Master Windu. I apologize for my clumsiness. I'd heard you cleaned up in your game with Master Yoda. Do tell me you're not in line to make him pay up?"

"'_Master Windu'_? Whatever, _Master Kenobi_," Mace laughed again, looking almost angelic as the lights reflected off his head, though the words that followed were anything but. "Yeah, I beat the old troll all right—the little green dude passed out not long after the last round—I think he's still under the table. Damn good thing, too. You know how Yoda talks when he's sauced—actually makes sense. So seriously, why _are _you still here?" He made a show of checking around Obi-Wan and shook his head mockingly. "Still alone, huh? Looking for a little _action_ to bring home for the night?"

Closing his eyes for a moment, Obi-Wan swore under his breath, rubbing a hand over his chin to hide his impatience for Mace's needling. "Thank you, yes, I'm still alone, as you said, and no, I'm not looking for any sort of...of..._action_ that Knights Out might provide at this point." He craned his neck past the other Master in the direction where he'd last seen Quin. "I'm actually looking to help Quinlan with some security issue. Have you seen him?"

"Nah, though that fucker owes me for sending Fisto off-planet for him. I just came over to pick up a tray of Selonian Shooters for me, Mundi, and Luminara, which you nearly spilled all over the damn place—stang, Kenobi, what is _with _you tonight? You show up here of all places, which really deserves some kind of investigation of Sith influence right there, you turn down Tachi, you're seen macking on _Vos_..."

He regarded Obi-Wan with a mix of pity and wonderment. "Skywalker's worth all that desperation, huh? The boy's got it where it counts, I'll give you, but _man_, you _turned down Tachi._ Haven't you wanted to hit that for years? You had better get to 'Nara in the morning for a head scan."

"A _head scan_?" Astounded, Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and impulsively grabbed one of the shots, tossing it back immediately. The liquor burned all the way down, causing his eyes to water. "That? Was _awful,_" he coughed, reaching for another. He waved it erratically in Mace's shocked face.

"Nevertheless, w-while your concern for my health is touching, Mace, my choices for companionship, or lack thereof this evening, are not a matter for Luminara's scrutiny...or anyone else's!" he huffed indignantly, throwing back the second one and tossing both tubes back on the tray. He gasped for air, wishing for anything, even Nubian _Ass _Tea, to wash down the vile assault on his throat. "I am here simply," he rasped, blinking repeatedly to clear his watery eyes, "as a favor to Quinlan, nothing more!"

Mace chuckled to himself, impressed by the hangover Kenobi would undoubtedly be nursing for the next three days at this rate. "Looks more like he's been doing _you_ the favor, Obi-Wan. For a couple of years now, and I know you know what I mean." He waved and hollered across the room, pointing down at Obi-Wan and making an exaggerated sad face, followed by a crude gesture that made Obi-Wan look away in distaste.

"Listen." Mace walloped Obi-Wan on the arm to get his attention, which was still occupied with thoughts of swallowing the entirety of Hoth to extinguish the fire burning its way down his esophagus. "When you're done sniffing around Vos' ass and pining for Skywalker, you should join us," he invited, nodding his head encouragingly. "A little _adult_ company might help."

"_For the love of—" _Obi-Wan stumbled again, wincing as he rubbed at his throbbing arm. "Please do let me know if you see any this evening, Mace. _Adults_, that is," he countered icily, slanting his gaze over at the spectacular example Masters Billaba and Ti were currently setting involving a stage, some unidentifiable props, and..._feathers?_ Obi-Wan averted his eyes back to Mace—he really didn't want to know, he decided.

The Korun let out a loud guffaw, tucking the tray in close as he backed away into the crowd. "Only the good die young, Obi-Wan," he advised, beaming mischievously. "And sinners have a helluva lot more fun."

Scowling, Obi-Wan began his trek through the undulating crowd once more, his throat still burning, but not as much as his inflamed frustration and scorched pride. "Then Anakin surely will surpass Yoda," he muttered bitterly, willing himself to notthink of what kinds of _sins_ Anakin had already engaged in that evening.

_And I must have died a long time ago._

* * *

Anakin stretched out languorously on the now-slick surface of the bar, casually propping up a boot against the ale tap on the inside rail. He wriggled his body and arched his hips to the beat of the music pounding in his ears, seeing the swirl and strobe of the lights even through his closed lids. He'd been skeptical about this whole body shots thing, but after seeing Aayla perched on Siri, working her tongue all the way up the other woman's body... Anakin just _knew _it was the distraction he'd spent the entire night looking for. Now the party was coming to _him_; Anakin Fucking Skywalker was the center of attention and loving it, and fuck anyone who tried to get in his way. _Damn right, no one's gonna stop me now. Not even Obi-Wanker Kenobi._

Above the music, he heard the appreciative roar of his audience, and cracked open an eye, figuring it was for whoever was next in line. He didn't care who it was, as long as they kept coming, and by the looks of the line, he wouldn't have long to wait. He settled back, grinning when long nails raked through his short curls and Siri's familiar voice purred "Are you enjoying yourself, darling?" With the juicy wedge of fruit pushed between his lips, Anakin could only nod and relax, groaning as Siri shimmied and settled herself once again across his hips for another turn. _Fuck yeah, this is a Knights Out to remember. Obi-Wan is always saying I should be mindful of the moment, and I plan on making many moments to be mindful of tonight!_

His commitment to mindfulness was almost instantly derailed when some Ithorian bellowing '_Oh, you can blow me!', _sounded to Anakin a hell of a lot like _'Obi-Wan Kenobi'_. Betrayed once more by his out-of-control preoccupation with Obi-Wan, Anakin chastised himself, irritated that once again he'd allowed thoughts of his Master to disrupt his very deliberate attempts—_hello, Siri's mouth currently near my delta quadrant_— at forgetting the man altogether. Or at least forget for _five fucking minutes_, was that so much to ask?

_Apparently, _he thought hopelessly, the lights, the music, the clamor of the club melting away as Fantasy-Wan appeared to him once again, not for a casual strip tease in their quarters this time, not a dirty, needy hookup in the 'fresher, but forcefully pushing his way to the front of the line, eager to claim his turn...

_Obi-Wan vaulted up to the top of the bar, his boots clicking sharply on the smooth surface. The crowd cheered, initially for this bold, sexy stranger's commanding swagger, then louder when surprised cries of recognition quickly spread word of his identity. Now the center of rapt attention, visible to a wide swath of the club, tongues and other appendages wagged in anticipation for what they were about to witness. Obi-Wan brushed aside those bangs that drove both him and Anakin crazy—though for very different reasons, Anakin knew—and with a broad smile, held out a hand for quiet. "I do believe—"_

_Anakin's eyes shot open, blinded by the flash of a passing strobe light. Was that...Obi-Wan? He tried to blink away the glare, his eyes sluggishly coming into focus...and then saw him. Oh... Force. Standing between Anakin's calves, face flushed, shirt half open and wet, hair tossing about rakishly as he swayed just a little bit on the heels of his boots. Anakin sucked in a breath and held it, not daring to breathe._

_"—it is my turn with this Padawan!" Obi-Wan finished with a flourish of his hand, to furious cheering and applause. _

_Obi-Wan placed his hands on his hips and turned toward Anakin, who hadn't moved an inch since he had heard those first words in that voice, that damnable unintentionally seductive tenor that had fed Anakin's raging libido for years. He regarded his Master warily now, his mind reeling... His turn? What was he going to do? Lecture me in front of everyone? Here, at Knights Out? Oh, hells no... Then, Anakin caught the look in his Master's eyes, and he swallowed. Hard._

_Obi-Wan was staring intently at Anakin. Past the point of control or propriety, he reached up and released one button on his shirt. Then, slowly and deliberately, he unbuttoned the next. Slowly, slowly. He finally reached the last one, and slid the shirt off of one shoulder, and then the other, in a teasing motion that left Anakin's mouth dry. _

_The crowd roared, but Anakin's full attention was on the nearly unrecognizable man hovering half-naked above him. Feeling himself heating from within, Anakin wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, encouraged by the way his Master's pupils grew darker with each lazy, suggestive swipe. Obi-Wan balled up the shirt and threw it casually over his shoulder, raising his eyebrow at Anakin, as if he was daring Anakin to challenge him._

_Squatting down, but not touching Anakin yet, Obi-Wan grabbed the bottle, measuring out two more shots. With a disparaging shake of his head, he stood up, gazing down at Anakin's torso. "Just look at you. You're filthy, Padawan, ravaged and defiled by countless others who have had their mouths on you, a disgrace that you not only allowed, but wantonly encouraged." Obi-Wan suddenly tossed both drinks across Anakin, the cool liquor splattering over his abdomen, up to his chest, some even splashing his chin before sliding off his skin in ticklish, wet rivulets. _

"_A Jedi must always keep himself tidy. You never know when you might be called on for servicing—I mean, in service of—your Master," Obi-Wan lectured disdainfully. Anakin bucked and shuddered from the sensation and pulled his arms down from under his head, giving his Master an insolent smirk from under his lashes. Propping himself up, he began licking at the drops of alcohol on his chin. His Master shook his head disapprovingly, pushing Anakin back down with the tip of his boot. Squatting once more over Anakin, Obi-Wan dragged two fingers over the mess on Anakin's chest, then painted Anakin's lips with the silky liquid..._

"Oh, baby, if only you could see how delectable you are tonight." Siri's smoky voice, so distinctly _not _like Obi-Wan's at all, startled Anakin back to a reality that disappointingly did not have his Master straddled over him, offering alcohol-sweetened fingers for Anakin to lave clean with his tongue. "Look, Anakin. Just look at them, all hungry and waiting to taste _you_," she cooed invitingly, tracing a line over his collarbone to his braid, twirling it playfully around her fingers.

Anakin lazily opened one eye and craned his head toward Siri, nodding and smiling dazedly, but only gave the crowd a cursory glance. He didn't bother searching for the one face he wanted to see, the only one _he _was waiting for. _Oh, if only, _Anakin thought fleetingly, sighing and resuming his position as this year's big attraction at Knights Out. Which admittedly, considering the alternative—being alone, or Force forbid, watching Master Vos sucking on Obi-Wan's face, or sucking on his_—fuck, don't even go there!_—wasn't _so_ bad.

_Dammit. _Desperate to wash away the sickening thought, he blindly grabbed at a bottle on the bartop, took a huge, sloshing gulp, and winced when the bottle slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor next to him. He snapped his fingers impatiently. "Next!"

* * *

Wading his way through the tight crowd pressing towards the action at the far end of the bar, Quinlan watched with grudging appreciation as Siri slid off Anakin and selected a lanky dark-furred humanoid Padawan from the line, handing him the spice shaker and a shot. With his height and distinctive tattoo, Siri spotted Quin immediately, and with the hungry look of a nexu ready to pounce, she pointed first at Skywalker, then crooked an inviting finger at the Kiffar, mouthing, _"Your turn?"_

_Don't I wish, _Quin thought, responding to her generous 'offer' with his most insincere smile and an exaggerated salute. _Tachi's just eating this all up as a way to screw over Obi-Wan. _While he could argue with her intentions—Obi-Wan was his best friend and was clearly besotted with that shit-for-brains Padawan of his, and according to Aayla it went both ways—Quinlan sure as hell couldn't fault her methods. _Damn, if it were anyone but Chosen Boy and Kenobi, I'd be over there leading the kriffing line. And she knows it._

With an equally flippant wave, Siri blew him a kiss, tossed her hair back with a laugh, and returned her attention to the spectacle she'd so proudly created. Quinlan Vos might be the ringmaster of this circus, but she held the reins of the star attraction and planned to make the most of it.

Slowed in his progress to Siri and Skywalker by a passing conga line headed up by Mundi, Quin whistled his loud approval at the gyrating procession. When Windu cha-cha'd past him with a deliberate check to his hip, Quin returned it with a good-natured smack to the Korun's ass. _Wait, Windu? _ Without much hope, he quickly scanned the raucous parade of revelers... Koon...Yaddle...'Nara...Olin and Veld... but knew it was useless—he'd seen a lot of strange things at Knights Out over the years, but Surly-Wan participating in such frivolity? Not a chance.

Quin sighed and dashed between a couple of stragglers, making a straight line for Skywalker's boots, which at this point was about all he could see of the kid. With any luck, he figured Obi-Wan had finally fallen into a taxi and was on his way home to his ugly-assed robe and, if Quinlan had anything to do with it, his Padawan's bed.

_But you gotta get that boy out of here first. _Quin scratched at his chin as he glanced around the club, assessing his options and mulling over some way to work Tachi's game to his advantage. _C'mon, Vos. You've infiltrated the Sith, Hutt cartels, and Kenobi's pants—you're the expert at the impossible. There's gotta be something that'll push those final buttons...and make us _all _very happy Jedi tonight._

As one young Padawan awkwardly mumbled something that was intended to pass as a seduction line in her ear, Siri affected an encouraging smile even though her attention was clearly not with this boy—whose species was not readily identifiable but pleasing nevertheless—_must be some potent pheromones, mmm...but no, my sweet, you aren't my focus just now. _Just a little distraction from the impossibly-pompous Master Obi-Wan Kenobi's precious Padawan, who lay sprawled indecently across the bartop, grinning drunkenly as fellow Padawans, Knights, and even a few Masters, queued up to take their turn tasting the Chosen One. She had to admit it was a unique taste. _Like just desserts._

Patting the young pup on the antennae, Siri strolled along the lineup, perusing beings of all ages, species, and sexual identifications, and tapped a finger thoughtfully against her lips, smirking with satisfaction. _Pity you already left, Obi-Wan. You really would have enjoyed the show—or perhaps not. I guess word of mouth—and all the little bite marks and scratches—will have to do. All those hands, all those lips, all over your precious Anakin. Humiliating, really. And positively devastating, which you have more than earned, darling._

"I hear you and the kid put on quite the show, Tachi. What you need now is a _man_," Quin drawled, swaggering confidently up to her near the end of the line and giving the blonde a lewd once-over, his knowing grin widening further as his eyes lifted to meet her icy glare.

Siri choked with contempt, folding her arms across her chest. "_Right_, Vos. Do you happen to see any around, because all I see are little boys with, ahem, little toys," she lifted her chin haughtily, challenging the clearly overstated claims of the wanna-be lothario's virility.

Quinlan beamed and spread his arms wide. "Hey, baby, all the boys like my toys. The girls, too. 'Bout time you found that out, sweetheart. What do you say?" he winked encouragingly. "No need to get nasty with me, just because Kenobi didn't want to buy what you were selling. So, what, you already done with the Golden Boy there?" he asked nonchalantly, nodding over towards Anakin.

Siri followed his gaze, smiling triumphantly. "Oh, I've hardly begun. The night, like my sweet kitten, is young, and unlike some _others, _I am willing to share my rewards." Siri purred and ran her hands coyly down Quin's chest. "As you were kind enough to do for me earlier, with your surprisingly talented ex-Padawan. Aayla's delightfully...now what is the word for it? Nimble? No... Lithe?...that's not it, either... Oh, yes." She raised a provocative eyebrow, relishing Vos' rapt attention and hitch in his breath, and leaned close to his ear. "_Flexible," _she whispered hotly, weaving her arms up and around his shoulders.

She'd always found Vos to be well beneath her and revoltingly _simple, _both in taste and intellect, but at the moment, with his impressively muscled stature pressed up against her, and that mangy hair of his, dangling from his head like a dead animal, lightly scratching and tickling the sensitive skin under her arms, she could not quite remember why. "Perhaps we should consider sharing...together, hmm?"

Quin's eyes widened at the unexpected proposition, not to mention the very inconvenient, traitorous, and extremely urgent jump of a member of his personal party that had gone _hours _without coming out to play at Knights Out. _Me, Aayla...and Tachi? Oh, kriff, Aayla's lekku and Tachi's legs, all wrapped around me...now that's some kind of Quinny sandwich! _

Quin cleared his throat gruffly, desperately working to keep that party in his pants—for now, anyway. "Better be careful, honey. Someone might take you up on it," he replied with a leer down Siri's barely-there blouse, which had apparently—and fortunately—_not_ been re-buttoned quite right. _Damn Kenobi, you've always been a better man than me. How in the hell did you pass this over? _

Siri ran a finger over the rough stubble on the Kiffar's chin, then over her own parted lips and down to the cleft in her chest, enjoying the prowl of Vos' hungry eyes over her. "That would be the idea, Master Vos. Unless you think it would be too much...for you..."

Quinlan groaned, letting his hands roam freely beneath the loosened hem of Siri's blouse, skimming his fingers against the outside curves of her thank-the-Force stripper-quality sentries of splendor standing at attention, ready to be inspected and conquered by General Vos of the GAR. "Oh, I'm definitely _up _to the challenge, Master Tachi," he growled in her ear, dragging his thumbs brazenly over the thin lacy film of her...whatever she had on under there, because in all his travels to various _establishments_ across this galaxy, he was sure he'd never come across one of these, because Sith _damn_, he would have remembered.

Siri bit back the moan, unwilling to give the bastard any satisfaction—at least for now—but couldn't control the involuntary arch into Vos' surprisingly skilled hands. _Anakin, while pretty, could certainly learn a few things from this lout...hmm...now there's a lesson I wouldn't mind supervising._

Trying to wrest back some control of the situation, she peered up at the Kiffar, tracing a fingernail over one of the intricate tattoos on the man's sculpted bicep. "And so just where do you think your little Twi'lek has wandered off to? The fresher? A brothel?" She gasped, feigning concern. "Oh, dear...Kit Fisto?"

"_What?"_ Quinlan flinched, a look of alarm passing over his face. Growling, he yanked her closer, his dark expression melting into a confident smirk. "Now, why in the galaxy would she need that Nautolan, when she's got _this _already_? _Quinny's got everything she needs tonight, so don't you worry, Tachi. She'll be back."

Blowing ineffectively at the blonde strands that had inexplicably become entangled with his dreads and obscured his view, Quin urgently scanned the crowd over Siri's head for any sign of Aayla. Or hells, even Fisto. At this rate, he was going to need all the luck the Force had to give him in order to get Skywalker into Kenobi's bed, and Aayla into his. He wouldn't argue if the Force wanted to reward his selfless efforts with a side-order of Siri Tachi, either.

_Aayla, sweetheart, don't you make a liar out of me._

* * *

After touring the Outlander for any sign of Barriss, Kit, or anyone worth wasting her valuable time with while waiting for Quinny to get the job done, Aayla stalked up to the bar, alternatively smiling and flipping off the line of Jedi waiting to get their 30-second thrill with the hottest thing, next to her, of course, that the Order had to offer. "_Losers_," she murmured with a broad smile. She reached Anakin's boot first, hooking her nails into the flesh behind his knee and digging in. "Sexy-Kin," she growled through gritted teeth.

Pouting, Anakin reluctantly sat up and blinked open his eyes. He smiled quickly to cover his disappointment at yet again losing the image of his Master sprawled all over him on the very public bar, instructing a wayward Anakin in some very uncivilized, _un_-Obi-Wan-like lessons. _"Aaaaayla,"_ he sighed blithely, raking a hand through his hair and flicking his braid over his shoulder. "How's it going? Find Master Fisto yet? He's not been in line here," Anakin frowned, crinkling up his brow thoughtfully. "Well, not that I remember," he laughed drunkenly, giving up trying to count them off on his fingers. "There's been, um, a few here."

_Baby-Kin needs to get out of here and go home, before he does something _really_ stupid. _Aayla rolled her eyes, digging her nails in yet again. "Yeah, yeah, you're so popular, everyone wants you, I get it," she said exasperatedly. "But what about Obi-Wan, huh? That's who you really want to see this, isn't it? Listen up, stupid: your Master went home already. So if you're putting on your little show for him, it's too late, okay?"

It was a lie, a _tiny_ little white lie, but for all Aayla knew, Master Kenobi _had _gone back to the Temple; she'd not seen him since she spotted him with Master Windu, and that had been a while now. She had to admit that, despite her personal aversion to any kind of exclusivity—the galaxy was an endless buffet with an infinite supply of cuisine to be sampled—she was very fond of the hopelessly romantic dumbass fucking up his existence—along with her night—on the bar in front of her, and did want to help him. Even if getting Anakin out of here would also help Quinny get that much closer to getting _her_. Not that it would necessarily be a bad thing; she just relished the chase and had no intention of being a one-night wonder for Quinlan Vos. He could be _her _one-night wonder. Maybe two. _Definitely not more than three._

Scowling, Anakin rubbed the back of a hand over his eyes. "Prolly went home with _your _Masser," he muttered jealously, recalling the way Master Vos' hands were all over Obi-Wan's..._everything._

"Hmm..." Aayla hummed with a noncommittal shrug of her slim shoulders, giving the impression that Quinny had indeed slunk out of here with Anakin's Master in tow. Giving her friend as much of a sympathetic smile as she could under the circumstances—fondness aside, Anakin had _definitely _been a pain in her very comely ass that night, and it was high time he stopped harshing her buzz at her first Knights Out as a full-fledged Jedi Knight. "Come on, you know this game of 'Who's Who of the Temple' isn't what you really want, even if right now Quinny's back in _your _quarters, drilling _your_ Master into _your _mattress."

Anakin choked. "_My_ mattress?" A totally unwelcome image invaded his already overactive imagination, one swirling with dark dreadlocks, guttural thrusts, and cultured, mannered cursing amid his model starships, techno-fusion posters, and broken droid components. He felt his stomach lurch sickeningly. "Force, Aayla. _Shut up, _would you?"

Aayla reached out and yanked hard on his braid. "Hey, I'm not that thrilled about it either—remember, that's _my _Master, too, you know. But _I'm _not the one making an ass out of myself with the entire Jedi Order, trying to hurt him." She frowned, smoothing her hand down his braid, using the tip to brush affectionately at his cheek. "Come on, haven't you done enough damage for one night? It's like you guys are sparring with blindfolds on, eventually someone's going to get hurt."

With a naughty wink, she ran her blue-pink tongue over her top lip while brushing her hand up Anakin's thigh, giving it a firm, encouraging squeeze. "Maybe you should think about putting those blindfolds to better use...and with _different _lightsabers...?"

Anakin squirmed, sighing dreamily at idea of his Master in a blindfold, offering to spar...no, _demanding _to spar, only...yes, yes, blindfolded and naked...no, forget sparring...blindfolded, naked, sweaty combat training on the mat...rolling around, pressed chest to chest..._yes... _

He gave a little shake to his head, trying to focus on the gorgeous Twi'lek in front of him, wishing to all hells for her, for anything, to make him forget Obi-Wan. Acting on thoughtless impulse, he boldly reached over and drew one of her lekku into his palm, expertly manipulating the tip just as she'd taught him last year in the 'fresher. "Could show _you_ my 'saber, Aayla. Wanna s-spar?"

Lightning fast, Aayla's fingers were around his wrist. She bared her teeth, giving him a look that was anything but inviting as she pried away his presumptive hand. "Hey, sleemo, hands _off_. These?" She took a step back and tossed the pleasingly plump appendages over her shoulders, preening and posing as the attentive crowd behind her whistled, honked, and tweetled their appreciation. "Are _so _not for you tonight. What you want is _cock, _and honey, that's about the one thing this Twi'lek _doesn't _have. Get out of here. _Go home, _find that kriffing-hot repressed mess of a Master of yours who, incidentally, _has a cock_."

_I want more than that, Aayla. Just can't have it, that's all. So I gotta take whatever I can get. _Anakin tilted his head to the side, quirking his lips. _"_Plenty of cock here tonight, Aayla. Other stuff, too. Why leave now, when I can get all I want here, huh?" He patted her on the shoulder reassuringly and tried to look serious, but the copious amounts of alcohol made his face too lax, resulting in something not too unlike an expression the Twi'lek had observed on many a lascivious Hutt. "S'ok, Aayla," he slurred, swaying close and bumping his forehead against hers unintentionally. "_Ow._ T-tonight's all about _me _having fun. And I am, _really_. Just look around, who wouldn't have fun?"

He broke into laughter as Aayla scowled and roughly shoved him out of her face. "Hey! Anyone here _not _having fun?" he hollered to his captive audience, grabbing another shot and downing it to their roaring approval.

"_Whatever_, I am _so_ done here," Aayla huffed, jabbing Anakin squarely in the thigh, only mildly satisfied when he cried out in protest. "Good luck," was all she offered as she moved aside for the next patron. _Can't help the helpless, and Sexy, you are _beyond_ help. Now, where's Kit? Quinny? Charity work's over, this girl's _earned _a good time tonight._

* * *

A growing, rumbling murmur in the crowd behind her and Quin annoyingly pulled Siri away from delectable thoughts of dominating both this beast of a man and her skittish kitten. Curious now, her eyes slid over to the erratic weaving and jostling of the beings surrounding them, catching strains of offended protests and drunken threats in a remarkable number of languages.

When she recognized the inimitably polished voice that had haunted her for years—even when it was professing awkwardly sweet endearments in her naïve teenage ears—she bit her lip gleefully, thanking the Force for this very unexpected and timely gift. _ Oh, you really are a glutton for punishment, Obi-Wan. And I am far too pleased to be the one to deliver it. Pity; had I known, perhaps things would have turned out differently for us years ago._

"'Scuse me, pardon me, please...no really, I'm looking for Master Vos...excuse me, 'm sorry, no, I most certainly am not interested in _that..._oh,my apologies, I assumed you meant me... Can anyone point me toward Quinlan Vos? I really must find—" Obi-Wan burst out of the crowd, tripping over the undulating tail of a Thisspiasian to fall hard against the backside of a tall, dark, unyielding frame. Boots slipping in the indignant being's slime trail, Obi-Wan pulled himself into an upright position and attempted to straighten his shirt in what he thought was a dignified manner.

_Perhaps those Selonian Shooters were not the most prudent choice, _he considered idly, putting his hand over his mouth to cover an unwieldy belch, followed immediately by a disturbingly loud hiccup. "_Completely_ uncivilized," he murmured with a disdainful frown, as he carefully maneuvered his way around the black wall of leather and muscle that he knew could only be Quinlan Vos. _And that vest, who else would go bare-chested in a leather fringe vest? _Obi-Wan hiccuped again, pushing his disheveled hair out of his eyes as he looked up at the Kiffar, smiling with obvious relief.

"Master Vos! At last!"

Quinlan took one look at Obi-Wan, forcing himself to flash his most charming smile even as he was muttering some choice Huttese through gritted teeth. Obi-Wan was _smashed. _No, Obi-Wan wasn't just smashed, he was actually falling-down piss drunk_. _And after years of frequenting innumerable cantinas across the galaxy with Obi-Wan Kenobi, experience warned Quin that Tipsy-Wan was entertaining for exactly five short minutes, until he got some buzz droid up his exhaust port over something or other, and Pissy-Wan took over. _"Stang," _Quin sighed under his breath; this whole scene with Siri was just _begging_ for an appearance by Pissy-Wan.

"Uh...yeah...here I am, wow, you found me!" Quin agreed hastily, all while trying to peel Siri off him, but she was clinging to him worse than any case of Intergalactic Clap he'd ever picked up. He shot her a pleading look, which she returned with feigned wide-eyed innocence, snuggling up to him even more. When she ran a single clandestine finger down the length of his half-hard cock, he could only manage to choke out a garbled, "Hey, uh! Um...I thought you'd gone on?"

Accustomed to finding his philandering friend in any number of indecent situations, Obi-Wan paid little more than polite regard to Quinlan's latest conquest and continued on, taking no notice of the man's odd behavior—_Quin _and _odd _were virtually indistinguishable even outside of Knights Out. "Not when...there's...trouble..." he panted helpfully, ready to aid Quinlan in any way he needed, and definitely eager to postpone the lonely evening promised to him later.

_Another night alone...the model of chastity personified...without Anakin, or anyone else, for that matter. _He struggled to return his focus away from his mind's seditious thoughts of whatever vulgar, inappropriate, and most assuredly carnal activities the young man was undoubtedly, and probably currently, engaged in. _With that harlot Siri, or perhaps he's gone on to his Nubian Nightmare? Hells, he's probably with her and her entire entourage of lookalikes—a Padmé for every night of the kriffing week. _He scowled in revulsion at the invasive image of a harem of identical women in disturbingly complex hair arrangements and matching tasteless lingerie, all with the same eerie robotic voice promising various acts of depravity to an eager and agreeable Anakin. _Just help Quinlan, and then get the hell out of here. You don't belong here, you never did._

Obi-Wan shoved down the powerful wave of self-pity, returning his attention to the scene at hand, trying to assess whatever problem or situation Quinlan had been called away to tend. Holding back another threatening hiccup, he looked around...and blinked, hard. And blinked again, not trusting the information his admittedly impaired senses were providing. No apparent brawling between any of the more combative species...no illicit activities—which would have to be beyond the pale to be outlawed at Knights Out...no sign of Kit Fisto...nothing to warrant a security call. Just Quinlan, standing here seemingly in one piece, with his arms full of...

_No. _Obi-Wan squinted, tilting his head in confused disbelief, unable to process what he was supposedly seeing. _No. This is...no. _He blinked again, cursing the alcohol still waging war on his normally acute senses, then stood back stiffly when the scene in front of him finally came into terrifying focus. _Quinlan...is with Siri. _Siri! _The bloody degenerate's emergency is _her?

He fixed Quin with what he hoped was his most formidable 'General Kenobi of the Republic' glare, though if his blurred vision was any indication, it was probably more akin to 'Glassy-Eyed Spice Addict'. "Yes...well, I gather that would have been in...finitely more convenient for you, wouldn't it, _my old friend_? But you see, my conscience got the better of me, and _if you can imagine_, I thought you might actually...need my help." He pursed his lips, gesturing scornfully at the lamentable affliction draped all over the other man. "Though it seems you..._indeed..._have the situation _in hand_."

Siri trilled with delight, thoroughly amused by the addled emotional state the normally insufferably responsible and balanced Jedi Master Kenobi was in. "You know, Obi-Wan, your jealousy this evening is truly remarkable. While I understand your...disappointment...with being cast aside by not only your Padawan, but now your...what did you call him?..._date?..._and finding them both preferring _my _company...well..."

She curved her lips into a seemingly sympathetic frown. "I suppose it's a natural reaction to so much rejection in such a short amount of time, darling." Cuddling against Quinlan's shoulder, she dropped the sympathetic pretence. "Trust me, my dear Obi-Wan, I'm taking very good care of them. As you pointed out, they've _both _been in my _very _good hands."

Quin flinched with growing discomfort, surreptitiously trying to separate the blonde hellion from him in a manner that did not in any way constitute rejection or disinterest on his part. Quinlan Vos was no fool—he'd had a front row seat all night to Siri's vengeance against Obi-Wan for snubbing her in front of all the other Masters. Between hosting Knights Out, trying to seal the deal with Aayla, and now playing matchmaker/referee/fucking soul healer to Kenobi and Skywalker, he didn't need the added complication of a hell-bent maneater like Tachi turning on him. Not when he was _this close_ to partaking in the woman's rumored mastery of some Force skills that Quin figured were not only against the Code, but probably a criminal offense in several star systems. Steeling himself, Quin pulled back from Siri and turned to face the Wrath of Kenobi. Still, he couldn't resist letting his hand fall low to discreetly palm over the kriffing marvelous curve of her backside.

"Listen, Obi-Wan. Me and Tachi...we were just..." he shrugged sheepishly, withering a little when the other man just folded his arms across his chest and raised his eyebrow expectantly. Quinlan began to fidget, literally caught between the two people who had the power to eviscerate him, if only to get in a shot at each other.

"Man, come on. It's _Knights Out,_" he whined, as though he needed no other excuse or explanation for getting caught feeling up his best friend's ex and nemesis. "And-and-and besides, I thought we agreed you'd go _home_, to wait for...you know..." he hinted suggestively, waggling his eyebrows. "Remember, Horny Healer? Pet the Padawan? Mind the Master—"

"_Quinlan!" _Obi-Wan hissed in warning, not in any way wanting to discuss his...relationship—_you mean non-relationship, you old fool—_with Anakin, certainly not in front of Siri, not when _she'd _had more of a relationship with his Padawan _tonight_ than he could ever hope to have, outside of his increasingly frequent and disturbingly inappropriate hallucinations.

Undaunted and fortified by the potent cocktail of bitterness, jealousy, and embarrassment swirling through him, he turned his building acrimony on the one person because of whom he'd suffered the most this wretched evening. _Next to yourself, Kenobi. Never underestimate your gift for self-inflicted pain and humiliation._

"_Trust _you, Siri? Oh, I don't think so. I trust you about as much as I trust this one," he jabbed an accusing finger at Quinlan, "to refrain from leering at your chest like he's about to dive right in and devour them. Honestly, Quinlan, they're just _breasts_. Your maternal-replacement fixation is rather disturbing, you do realize?"

Quin grinned wickedly and nodded, stealing another appreciative look. "Hey, man, I know you're not much of a connoisseur these days, what with your boy, you know, not having them, but let me tell you, these are _really_—"

"_Quinlan." _Obi-Wan put a hand out, trying to ward off any further commentary about Siri Tachi's...anything. Quin was right about one thing—Obi-Wan had no interest in anything having to do with Siri. Or anyone else, for that matter. All he wanted, what he'd wanted for so long, what he came here tonight to _forget_, was what he couldn't have. _Anakin._

Pulling away from Quin, Siri narrowed her eyes dangerously. "You know, Obi-Wan, just because you're too...impotent...to indulge in your feelings, doesn't mean others are similarly impaired."

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, refusing to let her see how close the remark had hit. "My immunity to your...charms...does not reflect an impotency on my part, Siri. More like...indifference. Or revulsion." He smiled coyly, gesturing toward her companion. "You may ask Quinlan, if you like, as to how impotent I was earlier this evening. I assure you, I was anything but impaired."

Siri's lips flattened in distaste. "As if it takes any skill getting Quinlan Vos to fuck you," she laughed, waving him off dismissively.

"Oh, honey, _please. _As if it takes _any_ skill getting Siri Tachi to fuck you." A shrill laugh pierced the air as Aayla strolled up, twirling the stick of the hard confectionery in her mouth. With a wet pop, she let it slip from her pursed lips, turning a disapproving frown at her former Master. "Really, Quinny? Now _you're _slumming it with this _schutta_? There is no way you're getting anywhere near me without a full tox screen—Force knows what she's carrying."

Her face contorting into a mask of anger, Siri took a step forward and raised her hand, ready to strike, only to find it suddenly restrained. "Don't even _think_ about it," Quin's deep voice growled into her ear. Startled, she twisted around and matched the Kiffar's dark warning look with one of her own.

Trying somewhat to diffuse the situation—at this point, he really didn't need anything else kriffing up his plans with Aayla, plans that if he was lucky, would also include Tachi—Quin positioned himself between the two women, looking from Aayla to Siri, a lopsided grin quirking his lips. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, ladies. If you wanted to wrestle, you know, to work off all this sexual tension, all you needed to do was ask. I can have the mud pit set up in minutes," he offered eagerly, reaching with his free hand for his comm. "Clothing is optional, of course. What do you say?"

Aayla choked out a derisive laugh, reaching up and patting Quin patronizingly on the shoulder. "Dream on, Quinny," she sighed. Out of the others' line of sight, she gave her former Master a threatening look and a nod toward the bar. _"Do something. NOW." _she mouthed, popping the confectionery back in her mouth.

Siri yanked her hand free and smoothed her hands down over her blouse and skirt, reminded that her previous assessment of the man had been far too generous. "More unfulfilled fantasies? Grow up, Vos. Isn't it about time you started acting your age?"

"One could say the same for you, Siri," Obi-Wan cut in disparagingly, indicating the group lingering nearby, all with dermal afflictions, gangly limbs, and preciously short Padawan braids betraying their youth. During Aayla's arrival and magnificently disrespectful commentary—no surer indication she really _was _Quinlan Vos' Padawan—Obi-Wan had been anxiously scanning the area for any sign of Anakin.

"Do tell, not that I am surprised in the least that you have solicited yet another client this evening, but what have you done with my Padawan? Finished with him so soon?" Obi-Wan inquired, hoping his attempt at nonchalance veiled the apprehension underlying his curiosity.

"Well, now that you mention it, I do seem to have _misplaced_ my darling Anakin," Siri remarked drolly, sighing and looking beyond Obi-Wan toward the black boot currently stomping in time to the relentless beat of the music. "Though I'm sure he's being thoroughly entertained," she added distractedly, watching that boot suddenly jerk and flail as a pretty little Mon Cal's plump fishy lips went to work.

Quin shot Siri another warning look, stepping between the two. "H-hey, now, Obi-Wan. You know Skywalker—he's probably off getting a drink, or maybe out dancing, hey, you know, I bet he's in the 'fresher." He winced at the annoyed alarm on Obi-Wan's face. "No. I mean, you know, to actually _use _the fresher," he clarified quickly with a nervous grin.

Quin's eyes slid toward the bar, then back to Aayla, giving her a skeptical shrug. Tuning out the obvious arrival of Pissy-Wan—he _almost_ felt a little sorry for Tachi—Quin looked around for anything that might give him a plan, before Obi-Wan saw that dumbass boytoy on the bar and things got _completely_ out of hand. Unless...

His eyes landed on an inspired solution, one with a distinctive streak of gold in an otherwise unremarkable, if not perfectly combed, brown head of hair. _Maybe things _need _to get out of hand._ Quin couldn't stop the devilish smirk. _Of course. Vos, you're a genius._

Quin fished his comm out of his vest, improvising an emergency call. "Yeah? Okay, be right there." With a helpless gesture, he mumbled something about being right back, giving Aayla a conspiratorial wink. Slinking away from the brewing melee, he pulled aside his would-be savior and leaned in close, whispering animatedly while shoving a handful of drink credits in the front pocket of the young Knight's trousers, and clapped him gratefully on the back. _ Well, here goes everything. __If this works, everyone wins. If it doesn't..._ He didn't bother finishing the thought.

He returned to the group just in time to hear Obi-Wan fire off another zinger, something about Tachi's boots, felony solicitation, and the District's pleasure workers lined up just around the corner from the Outlander. So her boots _happened _to be thigh-high. So they _might_ look like something he'd seen once or twice while 'reconnoitering' some of the lower levels. Quin really didn't understand what the problem was.

"Everything _okay_, Quinny?" Aayla asked loudly, cutting off another round of sniping by the two Jedi Masters she'd been left to babysit; apparently she had nothing better to do this night than act as a crecheling master for the romantically dysfunctional. She placed her hands on her hips, eyes wide and expectant as her former Master reappeared at her side wearing an extremely smug grin.

Obi-Wan noticed the strange look that passed between Quin and Aayla, realizing belatedly that while he'd been suffering Siri's laser-precise cuts at seemingly every insecurity Obi-Wan had ever had about himself, Quin had stepped away on a call. "Quin? Is there a problem?" he inquired almost too eagerly, feeling a twinge of guilt that he was actually hoping for some kind of trouble, anything to provide a distraction and excuse to relieve himself of this entire nightmarish affair.

Quin chewed at the inside of his cheek, glancing over the crowd to the bar and then back to his best friend. His drunk, lovesick, really-in-need-of-a-fuck-not-provided-by-me best friend. _No time like the present. _"Not...exactly? Just something that needs some...attention." With a smirk over his shoulder at Aayla, he grabbed Obi-Wan by the arm and started dragging him around party-goers toward the bar where the cheering was getting louder by the second.

"What's going on?" Obi-Wan asked suspiciously, straining to see over the rest of the crowd in the direction the commotion. He might be more intoxicated than he could recall in recent memory, but he still could spot Quinlan Vos' attempt at discretion, which generally meant none at all. He could never add up how Quin had become so skilled at espionage when the man was almost always the first to lose at strip poker. Obi-Wan frowned; given Quin's comfort with his own nudity, perhaps he was an accomplished bluffer, after all.

Judging by the increasingly agitated mood of the crowd, it seemed Quin was guiding them toward the disturbance, whatever it was. "It must be serious, if _you're _worried about it," Obi-Wan quipped, grimacing as they slid between two topless females sharing an enthusiastic embrace, one of whom he recognized with a shudder as Quin's redheaded groupie from earlier in the evening.

Quin nodded his hello, stealing a quick kiss from the young woman and then encouraging the pair to make sure to look him up later, even as he kept moving. "Oh, someone's on the bar, letting all comers take body shots," he replied casually. "It's nothing serious, I just don't want a stampede because this asshat's got everyone worked into a lather. It's enough work keeping things _semi-_legal at Knights Out," he laughed ruefully, turning back to Obi-Wan. "Remember the year they served that 'discount' ale, and it was spiked with ryll? _Kriff_, that was a good night. And the old story about why pyrotechnics were banned years back? I still think that's when Windu lost his hair, I'm just saying."

"Oh, and I wonder just why I stopped coming to Knights Out," Obi-Wan remarked sarcastically, scanning the bar area for the delinquent attendee. "Well, that explains the fervor of this crowd," he shouted over another roar and surge of the bodies pressed close all around them. "What's the plan? I assume you _do _have one?"

Quin gave him a lopsided grin. "You know, they didn't put me in charge of this gig just because I'm a pretty face, Sassy-Wan. Since I'm _obviously _the better, stronger, and taller of us—what? You know it's true—I'll perform crowd control, and you can get the asshat off the bar. You can handle just _one _drunk with a god-complex, right?" Quin baited his friend, knowing there was no way Obi-Wan's epic sense of duty, along with his injured pride, would deter Master General Jedi Kenobi from completing his mission.

"_Yes,"_ Obi-Wan replied testily, affronted by yet another jibe about his deficit in size and strength compared to the hulking Kiffar. "While I have given up trying to procure any kind of _proper_ companionship this evening," he eyed Quinlan meaningfully, "I do believe I'm capable—as my ever-caring Master once described me—of removing one overindulgent hooligan, thank you very much."

Groaning and stopping in his tracks, Quin turned and regarded Obi-Wan with a sad shake of his head. _Aww, seriously? Now he's bitching about Qui-Gon and the 'capable' thing? This whole thing's running on vapors if Pity-Wan's worked himself up to that already. _"Kriff, you're never going to let that one go, are you?" Quin appealed to Obi-Wan's lurking sense of humor to try to banish Pissy-Wan from the party. "You know Qui-Gon and Tholme were high as fucking skyhooks on those Felucian mushrooms Dex cooked up for them when he said that."

Obi-Wan snorted and stumbled right into Quin, clumsily snapping his fingers on the third try. "Oh, that's right! And you...Tholme chased you around with his lightsaber, insisting your head was covered with venomous Kashyykian vine snakes!" He doubled over, chortling at the memory of a couple of seared-off ends of dreadlock being stomped to death under the bare feet of their two normally reserved Masters.

"Yeah, yeah. See, 'capable' doesn't seem so bad now, does it?" Quin retorted, petting lovingly over a handful of his distinctive hair. He hauled Obi-Wan up with a pat on the back. "Now, come on. Let's get this done, and then you, my friend, can go home. Alrighty?"

Even though Quin sounded frighteningly logical to Obi-Wan, considering most of his requests of Obi-Wan this evening—dancing...an orgy...a striptease...coming here in the first place—Obi-Wan knew the other man would not have asked for help unless he really needed it. With a chivalrous lift of his chin, his sense of duty kicked in as always, even when this inebriated, and Obi-Wan Kenobi was ready for service. "Proceed," he ordered in as low and serious a voice as he could manage, choking back the bubble of laughter that followed his officious pronouncement. _Anakin thinks I can't be fun? Oh, I can be fun! _

Though they were but a short distance from the bar, their progress was slow, given the density of the throng, and following the tall Kiffar meant Obi-Wan's view was blocked until they were right in the heart of the action. Looking around the boisterous, cheering masses, Obi-Wan saw an amazing cross-section of the Jedi population. Padawans, Knights, Masters, humans, humanoids, and non-humanoids, in all states of dress and inebriation, all transfixed on a point Obi-Wan had yet to make out.

Raising an eyebrow over at Quin, Obi-Wan was surprised he could feel, even through his strong shields, the waves of titillating excitement radiating from each one of them. It was apparently the highlight of the evening so far, though he wondered what it said about his fellow Jedi that they were so entranced by the performance of a lone deviant on some disgustingly tacky bar, when Knights Out offered so many other dubious distractions and entertainments.

With Obi-Wan distracted, Quin sent a not-exactly-inconspicuous signal over to his unwitting accomplice, tracing his finger along his tattoo and over his nose, tapping twice on the side. He'd not even had to explain _why _he needed this particular favor, only that he'd be helping out a Master, and the damn ass-kisser fell all over himself to help. The extra drink credits had been, of course, to help his accomplice _forget _just which Master had asked for the favor in the first place...just in case.

Taking a deep breath, Quin turned around suddenly, putting both hands on Obi-Wan's shoulders, and leaned in to the shorter man's face. "Ready?" he asked seriously, staring deep into his friend's bleary green eyes. _I hope you are, my friend. And if not, I hope you won't hold a grudge for too long._

"Of course, Master Vos," Obi-Wan replied just as seriously, though his lips rebelliously curved into a drunken smirk and he laughed again. It was like old times, back when they were younger and he often-willingly followed Quinlan into some kind of misguided adventure. Doing his best to embrace those warm memories, Obi-Wan let himself sink into the comfortable, familiar mantle of Jedi Master, ready to restore law, order, and justice to the Republic.

Or to Knights Out, anyway.

"Lead the way."

* * *

Catching Master Vos' signal, and armed with enough drink credits to knock out a bantha, Ferus Olin bribed his way to the front of the line, proud to be of service when called upon by a Master. He poured out his shot, not wasting a single drop—Ferus was never careless— and hopped up on the bar. "Yo, Skywalker. Think you can meet up later in the alpha 'fresher?"

Anakin smirked and squinted open an eye. "_Olin. _Figured you'd be back around sometime. Looking for a repeat of last year?" he gasped defiantly, as Ferus' tongue moved wet and warm up his abdomen.

Ferus peered up and smirked in return. "You know it." He took the shaker, raining spice down the painstakingly drawn line he'd made with his tongue. As in all things, Ferus took his time, proud of his precision and dedication to doing things the right way.

"Yeah, well, this time, it's gonna be _you _on your knees, got it? And make it the beta 'fresher—I heard Madame Nu's in the alpha—unless you're into that sort of thing now?" Anakin demanded, sucking in his breath as Ferus' tongue diligently lapped at his navel, taking care to remove all traces of spice from the indentation.

"You wish, asshole." Ferus continued his trek upward, pausing to conscientiously lick at the hollow of Anakin's neck.

"Y-you're the one here, Olin. Besides, you owe me," Anakin insisted, sinking his fingers into that stupid gold ribbon of hair that Olin insisted was genetic. Anakin always figured it was some lame-ass attempt at rebellion. _Only someone like Olin would think messing with his hair was an act of defiance. Or someone like my Master, _he imagined, recalling the different lengths and styles his Master had gone through, not to mention the sudden appearance of that fuzzy gingery thing on his face. _Not that I mind it, so much, anymore...fuck, how it would feel, down there, against my—_

Anakin swore loudly, enjoying Olin's mouth a kriffing lot more when it _wasn't_ talking.

* * *

With a rough shove, Quinlan switched places with Obi-Wan so that the shorter man's view of the bar was unimpeded. Obi-Wan swayed a little, steadied himself yet again, and admiringly took in the black leather-clad legs of the person on the bar. _Hmm, leather certainly does work on some people_, he observed, deliberately _not _thinking of anyone in particular. _Enough. Let's get this over with. _

Obi-Wan tilted his head, and squinted, slowly taking a step forward toward the two bodies, feeling himself as mesmerized as the crowd around him by the nearly voyeuristic experience of witnessing something so patently salacious. One body had the other pinned down, the spice he was shaking over the other sparkling in the play of lights as it fell.

When the young man on top sat back to set aside the spice, Obi-Wan gaped in shock. There was Ferus Olin, whose fidelity to the Code and the Jedi Order made Obi-Wan look irreverent and spontaneous in comparison, dragging his tongue around the naked undulating torso of—

Obi-Wan's hand slowly drew up to cover his mouth, his breath stolen from him completely. There in a shimmering pool of light, covered in spice and Force-knew what else, lying with his hands behind his head while lifting his hips to sway to the music, was Anakin. _Anakin. _Prostituting himself in public for nothing more than the illicit thrill. Engaging in behavior that Obi-Wan had never even imagined. And it looked like it might just be the happiest he had ever seen Anakin outside of his blasted ship. _Well, you wanted to know where he was. Congratulations._

Quin watched Obi-Wan's reaction curiously, and waited. When the other man continued to just stand there and stare, Quin rolled his eyes, leaning down next to his ear and nudging him, prepared to give his best speech yet. "So, you gonna do something about that? Are you gonna _discipline _him? Make him regret coming here tonight and _lying_ to you about it? Make him wish he had stayed _home_? With you, where he _belongs_?"

Quin had moved behind him, trailing his hands up and down Obi-Wan's arms and shoulders, emphasizing the words _"discipline," "lying," "belongs,"_ and _"home,"_ trying to finally push Obi-Stuck Kenobi past his own barriers and into something completely impulsive and completely necessary. _And you will thank me for it with lots, and lots, and lots of details, Kenobi._

He winked at Aayla, who frowned sullenly, clearly unimpressed with his efforts so far. But Quin figured Obi-Wan was pretty damn wound up by now, if the clenched fists and terse jaw grinding were anything to go by. Scrubbing a hand over his chin to disguise his amusement, Quin inclined his head toward the ongoing fiasco playing out in front of them. "I wouldn't let my Padawan sell himself on the bar like that. All those mouths..." He shuddered theatrically, clearing his throat to cover his bubbling laughter, knowing _that _one would definitely get at Fussy-Wan's distaste for the unsanitary. "Betcha Siri put him up to it, you think? I mean, isn't that Olin up there, too, having a taste of your boy? You'd better put a stop to that shavit, man."

Quin shuffled Obi-Wan toward the bar, figuring nature would take care of things from here. If the alcohol, the jealousy, the friendly prodding, and the incredibly sexy sight of Skywalker working it on the bar didn't do it, _nothing_ would.

"Enjoying the show, are we, gentlemen?" Siri, with Aayla's white stilettos clicking right behind her, intercepted the two men, craning her neck to follow their line of sight. "My, it does seem that you've finally located your astray Padawan, Obi-Wan. And oh, is that my Ferus?" she asked with a kind of wicked innocence, slanting her gaze over at Obi-Wan and the stunned shock on Kenobi's normally impassive features. "I know you were concerned about his whereabouts, so you must be thrilled to find Ferus taking such good _care_ of Anakin, yes?"

Aayla pushed her way past the other woman, stomping up to her ex-Master and punching him solidly in the gut. "You have _no _idea how much I hate you right now," she growled, taking a handful of dreadlocks and yanking Quin's ear down near her mouth. "This disaster of a Knights Out is _all _your fault, so you better damn well fix it," she threatened under her breath, taking in the maglev train wreck all around them. "Or the _entire_ deal is off, and I'm heading out for Muunilinst at dawn to find Kit. Got it?"

Grunting, Quin rubbed his abdomen, glancing over at the mess of Skywalker still draped all over the bar, still wearing that same stupid punch-drunk grin, oblivious to all this Galactic Opera that had been going on all damn night because of his pretty Chosen ass. "Alright, sweetheart, alright."

_Obi-Wan, man...I hate to do this, but you need a kick in that Sith-damn stubborn ass of yours. Time to haul out the heavy artillery. _Leaning close, Quin pursed his lips comically, smacking them in Aayla's face. "Give your Quinny a kiss for luck?" He chuckled at the look of pure derision the Twi'lek gave him along with a saucy flounce of her lekku. "No? Well, watch this. You'll change your tune," he promised, stepping back with a bow and disappearing into the crowd unnoticed.

Nodding mutely, Obi-Wan turned slowly, his mind barely able to function coherently through the haze of disbelief and fury. He glared daggers at the blonde, struggling to form the words. "Y-you. _You_ did this."

Siri regarded him with genuine surprise. "Actually...no, I didn't," she admitted, eyeing Vos slipping away, wondering just what he was up to, since this little scene he'd so obviously engineered—Ferus excelled at many things, but lacked the spontaneity and ruthless guile for something like this, Force bless him—was doing nothing but benefitting her vendetta against Vos' supposed best friend. "Well, not by myself, at least. Though it was _delicious_ fun, Obi-Wan, and Anakin was such an eager student. Mmm...as you can see for yourself, he's a natural...talent."

Without conscious permission on his part, Obi-Wan's eyes were drawn back to the lurid spectacle, watching Anakin writhe under the movement of Ferus' tongue, the lights reflecting the sheen of the line Ferus was marking up Anakin's chest. "F-Ferus is _your _Padawan, Siri." It was too much, far too much, and yet Obi-Wan couldn't look away—even if he closed his eyes, he knew he'd see it forever.

"_Was,_ Obi-Wan. And I don't control him. Just as you, apparently, cannot control _your_ Padawan," Siri pointed out, her tone one of cold mirth and satisfaction in a job well done. _I will definitely have to properly thank that imbecile Vos later._

Nothing could have prepared Obi-Wan to witness Anakin performing this kind of overtly sensual, sexual display in front of the entire Jedi Order. This was raw...shameless...erotic...hypnotic... This was _Anakin, _his Padawan, up there, doing _that. _And obviously enjoying it, he thought, as Anakin readily accepted both a piece of fruit and Ferus' mouth against his. Obi-Wan's face flushed hot with arousal and embarrassment in equal measure, and his hand shot up as though physically pushing away the sight.

"Indeed. Nothing could be more apparent," he muttered angrily, dipping his chin as he turned away from both Anakin's indecency and Siri's gloating. Did it really matter _who_ was up there with Anakin? It wasn't Obi-Wan. It would _never _be Obi-Wan. _ I can't see any more of this, I refuse to watch another take their fill of Anakin like that. I have to—_

"—Leave. Quin, I'm sorry, but—" Stumbling backward, Obi-Wan blindly reached for Quinlan, spinning around to where the man had just been standing. _"Quin?"_ Irritated now, he scowled as he scanned the nearby area, fully expecting the impetuous rogue to be groping Siri, Ayala, hells, probably both of them, but found both women surprisingly unmolested. "Blast it all, where did he—?"

Siri's eyes widened as she looked beyond Obi-Wan, while Aayla gave him a look of pure pity. "What now? Where is he?" he demanded impatiently, desperate to make his leave from this hideous scene once and for all, to run home and hide and sulk and rage and hopefully pass out _for days_. "I swear, if he ran off to chase some pretty little twink—" he huffed, turning around.

Through the veil of red descending across his vision, Obi-Wan beheld both Quinlan _and _his pretty little twink, bitterly recognizing that the Force had decided she was not _quite_ done pissing on Obi-Wan Kenobi just yet.

* * *

"So...0100 hours? Think that'll give you enough time to finish up here, Chosen One?" Ferus downed his shot and shoved the bit of fruit in Anakin's mouth, causing him to mumble his response. Lowering his mouth to Anakin's, he sucked the juice gently, neatly from the fruit; it wouldn't be proper to leave a mess behind. "What was that? I didn't copy."

Anakin rolled his eyes, turning to spit out the fruit. "Asshole. I _said_, make it 0130. And remember, it's _my _turn this time."

Ferus placed a finger against Anakin's bottom lip, dragging it through the shiny wetness. "But Skywalker, you're so very, very good at it. And besides," he took hold of Anakin's braid, giving it a tug, "_I_ don't have one of these anymore."

Anakin bucked up, trying to dislodge Ferus. "Oh, _fine_," he sighed, shoving at the bossy prick, annoyed at how easily he'd capitulated to the older Knight. _Probably because he's almost as pompous and irritating and repressed as Obi-Wan. _Anakin made a face, finding this comparison between the two disturbing. Still... _I wonder if I could convince Olin to use an accent next time... _"Get off me, asshole. Later," he said dismissively, closing his eyes and settling back into position.

"Later," Ferus agreed, sliding off his sometime-rival/'fresher buddy just as Master Vos approached. "'Evening, Master," he intoned with a deferential bow as they traded spots, satisfied by the completion of his mission, not to mention the appointment he'd been able to arrange for later. Skywalker was undoubtedly the most cocky, arrogant, undisciplined member of the Jedi Order, but Ferus benevolently chose to overlook those shortcomings in favor of allowing the Chosen One to practice and hone some of his other skills.

Checking his chrono, Ferus set his alarm for 0130. Heading out to find Tru, he passed by Master Siri and waved, wondering idly who the staggering mess of a guy was pointing a finger in her face. He chuckled and kept moving, knowing Siri Tachi could definitely take care of herself.

* * *

Quin quickly poured out two shots, downing one immediately—one way or the other, he was going to need it. Figuring he was on borrowed time, he skipped mounting the bar, opting instead to ambush Skywalker. "You don't know it yet, kid, but I'm about to change your life."

Anakin snorted, not opening his eyes as he waved off his latest patron's wishful boast. "_Riiiight. _ Y'know how many times I've heard that tonight? Got anything better than that?" he slurred distractedly, still caught up in some kind of endless loop of fantasies that had degenerated into something involving a blindfolded, bearded Olin sucking him off in a training salle while Madame Nu and Windu rated them on scorecards. Of course, fucking Olin scored a perfect 10. Asshole.

Quin snorted in return, almost wistfully gazing over what he was about to have, but what would definitely never be _his._ _Kenobi, you're one lucky bastard. _He smirked proudly. _To have me for a friend, that is._

"As a matter of fact, you little cock-tease, I do." With a quick glance back to make sure his efforts did not go unnoticed by all the relevant parties, Quin pulled his dreads to the side and leaned over, blowing a slow teasing breath over the now well-traveled path, watching the little bumps rise in response to the cool air. He then tossed back the second shot, and in twist he once saw in a seedy club on Zeltros, allowed some of the liquor to drizzle out from between his lips, enough to pool in Anakin's navel and spill over. Closing his lips around the recess, he sucked and swirled his tongue in the hole, and with broad swipes, worked his way up Anakin's belly, using the flat of his tongue to lap up as much of the remaining liquor as possible.

Anakin groaned and threw back his head, hips bucking upward as Quin's tongue tickled down his ribcage, flicking over any drops that had tried to escape. "Cock-tease? You're the kriffing cock-tease," Anakin gasped in pleasure, opening his eyes to see whose turn it was. "You have _got _to meet me later in the 'fresh—"

The first thing that came into focus was Quinlan Vos hovering over him with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. Then, almost in slow motion, out of the corner of his eye, Anakin saw someone throw a hell of a punch, knocking all the grin off of Vos' face and sending the Kiffar reeling to the floor.

Anakin's eyes widened, and he started to convulse with laughter at the comically shocked look on Master Vos' face just before he fell. _What the fuck was that? Someone just laid out Master Vos? Stang! _Anakin threw an arm over his eyes and just lay there, continuing to shake with laughter. _Fuck, yeah, Knights Out, this is definitely more like it!_

"Sith _damn _you, Quinlan Vos, I fucking warned you _never _to touch him!"


End file.
